Beauty in His Eyes
by OasisInTheDesert
Summary: Finnick Odair, victor and lover, has been drenched in secrets and burdened by the weight of loss and despair. He seeks to find meaning and something beautiful. Annie Cresta has a curious past and a different air about her. Will he see that as beautiful? Or, like most things he sees, cast it aside and get bored?
1. Drawn From a Pool of Names

**This is the beginning to a story that I've always thought was left untold. I hope you enjoy it, and I welcome all constructive criticism. I'd like to thank Suzanne Collins for her masterpiece and characters that I plan to write about. :)**

Prologue-

The clattering thud of racing footsteps chase after my own, and I know that I'm going to die. I can see my life flash before my eyes, and what a short life I lived! 14 years of trivial existence. My head pounds in unison with every stumbling pace. The stitch in my side threatens to burst open and I clutch my chest, sure my heart is going to burst. I hear through my thundering heart beat angry voices from behind.

"We've got him!" calls out an angry Career. Through my pain, I force myself onward, I must survive, I must keep running. The greenery hasn't presented a challenge thus far, and I am thankful for this. Running through jungle shouldn't be this easy... should it?

Then, out of nowhere comes a vine, grabbing my foot. I struggle for a moment, then let out a scream of exhaust and pain. The voices of my enemies draw nearer and nearer. The vine stretches past my foot to the rest of my shaking leg. Entangling me, the plant's grip tightens and I hear my leg give an ominous crack, bone breaking. I've broken bones before, and this feeling of pain isn't the same. Why? God! I'm too high on my own adrenaline to worry about something so frivolous as a broken bone! Stay focused, before they come. I will not die.

With every move I make to loosen the vine's hold, it only becomes tighter, the pain sears my leg like a branding iron. A shift in the shadows causes my eyes to open. Above me stands a muscular Career, trained for killing. He lifts a long sword and gives me one last smile before sending it racing down to my body.

I wake in a cold sweat, my mother holding a cold rag to my forehead, soothing words flowing form her lips. I look around and I'm still home in my beach side cottage. If I looked out the window, I'd see the same pale gray morning, waves tickling the shore's edge. I'm still in District 4, not in the arena. I let out a sigh of relief and let my head fall back on my pillow.

"Are you alright, Finnick, sweetie?" my mother coons, her voice just above a whisper.

"Yeah mom, I'm fine," I reassure her. "Nightmare, that's all." I give her my best smile in efforts to keep her from sobbing. Anything can set her off these days.

"Oh well, alright. I'm going to go down to the market to buy tonight's meal," my mother says in her less than audible voice. "Just get some rest. We need to be in the square by two o'clock. It's a big, big day"

Chapter One-

Fished Out of a Pool of Names

My mother leaves in a muffled hurry, whimpering under her breath. Sometimes, I wish I could just shake her out of this depression, or whatever you call it. She still can function fine, for which I'm thankful for, but she's never been the same since Sebastian died. I close my eyes and let the last memory of him engulf me.

"Grab that rope there, Fin," my older brother called out to me. I did as he told me and gave him a quizzical look, questioning if I was doing it right. "Perfect, Fin. Now come over here and take a look at this view."

I rushed to where he stood following his gaze to the glistening horizon.

"I don't think you could ever find such a breathtaking sight," Sebastian said as he patted my back, his strength comforting me. "Isn't it just beautiful?"

"Yeah, I guess," I said, frowning up at him, "but we see it everyday. It becomes average after awhile, don't ya think?"

He looked straight at me with a coy smile playing on his lips, his eyes an exact replica of my own, green as the ocean beneath us. "Ya see Finnick," he began, turning his gaze back to the horizon, "My beautiful and your beautiful are different things. I could stare at this picture all day and never get tired of it, and that's how you know something is truly beautiful. If you can look at it all day and forever and you still love staring at it, well, then it can't get any better than that."

We stood there together for a couple of minutes more, bonding like only brothers can, listening to the water splash against the wooden boat. "Come on now, Fin, mom won't be too happy if we come back empty handed. Help me heave this up," Sebastian said as he walked towards the net that we had cast to the side. We pulled until the net fell on the deck, dozens of fish flapping non-stop. I smiled wide and he mirrored me. We stooped over our catch, relishing in our forfeit. We flopped the net over the side of the boat once more and sat down together.

After a few moments of not awkward silence, I look up at him, "The reaping is in a few months..." my voice trails off, waiting for a reply. But when none came, I continued, "Thankfully we don't have to put our names in more times for tessarae because of the fish, huh?" Again, no reply. "Do you think one of us will be called?" I asked, ashamed of how cowardly I sounded.

"No, Finnick, I don't think we'll be called. I hope we're not either. You're only 14, you shouldn't be worried about death at such a young age. It's unnatural the way we live," he smiled at me, trying to relax my nerves.

"But you were called-"

"And thankfully someone volunteered that year, Fin. Stop worrying. Relax, enjoy life while you can. You're never going to get a girlfriend if your pouting all day," he mocked, grinning his arrogant smile. I had that same smile and I knew it, and we both used it to our advantage. To cut in lines, to impress pretty girls, it wasn't that difficult being _the Suave Odair Brothers. _"Now go swim back to the shore and I'll pull the boat into port; wait for me at home."

I dived off the side of the boat into the caressing blankets of water. My body pulsed to the beat of the careless waves, and I allowed the cool water to chill my nerves. I clambered back onto the sand shore and gave one last look to my brother and our boat before running back to my home.

I open my eyes and count my steps as I walk in my dingy home. It used to give off a breath of warmth, but now it feels like an empty carcass. No breath, only a gloomy inhale of loss. The loss my family experienced was just over three months now, but I still find myself cowering in corners weeping, doubled over by the stiff pain that only death can bring.

I grab Sebastian's trident from the corner of the kitchen and head to the ocean. The sand on my bare toes is a welcoming feeling, a promise that for now I'm safe. I stare out to the horizon, the sun peaking its head over its vast covering. I don't want to cry here, not now, so I shift my gaze to my brother's trident. It was his one true love, this weapon. He taught me to fish with it and, although he disliked the idea and I had to plead, to aim at moving targets. I walk out into the water till my thighs are submerged and wait. Continue waiting. "Patience is a virtue" Sebastian would tell me. Then, I feel the distant ripple of water and intake a satisfying breath. I aim and throw above the moving ripple and smile at myself. _Well done, Finnick, _I could hear my brother say.

After succesfully killing five fish with the three-pronged weapon, I walk back to the sandy shores. The beach is deserted except for a young girl, probably twelve, building a sand castle by the water. A lock of her dark brown hair falls in front of her determined face and she doesn't even notice enough to push it aside. I realize after a moment that I'm staring and head back to the shack.

I sit down on an old chair outside and gut the fish, making fillets that my mother and I can eat tonight. If, that is, I make it home tonight. I had to sign up for tessarae this year after my brother died. With no boat came no steady income, and with that came no food. My mother wept when I told her what I had done, but I was far too used to her tears to be sorry. My name is in the bowl ten times. That isn't incredibly against me though, is it? There are some children who have their name in there 50 times. The odds are in my favor. They must be, because they're is also the chance a deserving Career should volunteer for the great honor of dying.

By the time I finish preparing the fish, the cracked clock inside tells me I should be heading to the square. I rinse the salt water off my body, release the tangles from my bronze hair and put on my nicest clothes. They're not much, considering we had to sell most of my clothes to afford life, but they're alright.

I make my way along the streets to the square, falling in step with the hundreds of others. To my right a huddle of girls stare at me and smile shyly. I wink at them and flash a charming smile for their benefit. Some people need cheering up today, and who am I not to oblige? The girls giggle feverishly, except for one. I recognize her as the same girl who sat playing with sand at the beach. I look at her, taken-aback, my smile had yet to not produce a giggle from a girl. She holds my gaze with a meaningful expression, almost as if she's calculating me. I become self-conscious, looking down at my clothes and running my hand through my hair. Her lips curve up in a small smile, and I could tell she did out of pity for my benefit and pride rather than her own enjoyment.

She looks away and continues walking with her friends, and I have to conscientiously pry and pull my eyes from her. When I finally do so, I'm at the town square. People are paraded into roped off sections designating age and gender, and I go stand in my category. Around me are my class mates and acquaintances, all looking frightened. I scan the crowd, not knowing what I'm looking for. What am I looking for? And then, I see her, the girl from the beach who found nothing amusing in my smile or flirtatious wink. Unlike the girls around her, she doesn't look scared or even the least bit amused. She stands there, staring up at the stage with the same calculating look she gave me. I look up to where she stares and see the mayor, a gray haired old woman sitting in one seat, the District 4's escort in another, and ten other chairs filled with past victors of The Hunger Games beside them. Then I turn my focus back to the girl.

The sound of someone tapping the microphone draws me back to reality. The District 4 escort, Marmy Hapshaw, dressed in loud and flashing colors of blue and orange, speaks to us. "Welcome, everyone," she says into the microphone, her voice high pitched and annoying. "Happy Hunger Games, and may the odds be ever in your favor!" She pats the side of her spiked purple hair and continues. "I am honored to represent District 4 as an escort this year and I want to congratulate in advance the tributes of the 65th Hunger Games," she drones on. "Now, now, let us begin. Ladies always go first!"

She hobbles over to the bowl filled with girls names, and for a second, I ache to think what I'd do if the nameless girl from the beach would be called. I have a second to find her in the crowd again before I hear the name, "Dilanee Shorwood!" I look at her and sigh in relief as I see another girl, probably 12 or 14, take her place on the stage. She shakes and quivers and looks as if she might faint. She's going to be killed quickly, I think to myself.

Another girl, an obvious Career volunteers in her place. Dilanee races off the stage and falls into the arms of her friends, sobbing. The Career girl looks the appropriate age, 18, and is well-built and scary looking. She's pretty, but is a clear threat.

"What is your name, dear?" pipes Marmy.

"Allison Claire," she says into the microphone, nose held high and chest stuck out in front of her.

"Alright then, on to the boy tribute!" she yells.

She scampers over to the bowl on the other side of the stage. I look at her and feel sick to my stomach. How can someone honestly pass this bloodshed off as sport? The Capitol tells us this is what we deserve for rebelling in to Dark Days; they tell us to remind us not to let it happen again. They take children and make the murder each other for their amusement, make us sit and watch. I wonder which family will be mourning tonight...

"The male tribute is," Marmy Hapshaw sing-songs, "Finnick Odair!"


	2. Ship of Slaves

Chapter 2-

Ship of Slaves

My head snaps up as I hear my name called. I don't want to be thought weak. I want to be considered a threat also. I don't want the people watching this on television to think I'm a crying, moping, nobody. I tell myself now, that the show has begun.

I swagger up the steps and take my place beside Marmy Hapshaw. She waits the appropriate time for someone to volunteer, but no one does. That's it then, I think, I'm going into the arena. I'm going to die.

"I give you your District 4 tributes, Allison Claire and Finnick Odair!"

Though the morbid thoughts dance through my head I know that I cannot let it portray on my face, I flash a dazzling smile to the crowd, and as a Peacekeeper comes to escort me to the Justice Building, I wave and wink. It might be my imagination, but I hear hundreds of girls giggle and envision their blushes. Did that girl from the beach blush. Probably not, but I try to forget about her. Where I'm going, I need to be confident and sure of myself. That won't be too hard, I admit.

In the Justice Building, I wait. I look around the room to the ocean-themed colors of pale grays and blues. I rest my head on the soft couch I sit on and close my eyes. Just as the ominous feelings start to drift away, they're swarming my head again as I hear the door open. My mother walks in, shaking in hysterics. I glide over to her and comfort her. I can't help but think how wrong the situation is. She should be mollycoddling me, not the other way around. I should be the one sulking and weeping in her arms, yet here we are.

"Mom," I say in a soft lulling tone, "you're gonna be alright. I'm gonna be fine."

She looks up at me, frail and helpless. I realize that she won't be alright without me. She is so dependent and heart-broken. What will she do without me? Her large blue eyes stare up at me and I pull her into embrace. This might be the last time I ever see my mom. Might? Ha, who am I kidding? I'm a goner. I might be strong and fit, but no way am I capable of some of the things I've seem Careers do on T.V. But, why should I give up now? If I can't be strong for her, no one will.

"Mom, I'm going to win," I say to her, determined.

"I know," she says, and she sounds even more determined than I do. She truly believes I can win. Then maybe I can.

Two Peacekeepers come in and demand her to leave, and she does with the soft whimper she always seems to voice. No one else comes to visit me. So, I wait until the Peacekeepers come to escort me off to the train.

There will be cameras everywhere. I have to know what my angle is going to be. Should I be intelligent? Ha, no, Finnick, don't be ridiculous. What about scary? Me? Scary? Yeah, I can't see that happening. Attractive? Well, that's a given. So, I tell myself, just be you and then some.

Cameras flash on the way to the train and I my winning smile flashes back, causing some female camera-men to whistle. I walk in step with Allison, my district partner, but feel oddly disconnected from her. It's odd that I have never seen her around, not once. Everyone knows everyone in District 4. She must have been one of those trained-from-birth Careers who were never seen outside a Game Center. District 4 has 8 Game Centers, places where we teach the Careers to hunt, survive, kill. Most kids train in the Centers; I've been in on occasion to practice combat and hunting. Other children practically lived there, training since infancy. Allison, obviously is one of these.

I walk into the train compartment and look around. It truly is stunning. Decorated in sharp and clean colors, an elaborate chandelier dangling from above. I took a seat right away, and continue to look about, until I get bored with the scenery and start fiddling with my thumbs. Allison walks to the chair across mine and sits, staring me down. I stare back, our eyes never leaving each others, green into gray. She smirks and shifts her gaze to the windows, and I notice that we're moving.

"I like your spunk, kid," she says in a shockingly sweet voice. "Didn't even flinch in our stare down. So, you plan on living or what?"

I look at her, dumbfounded, but wipe the clueless expression off in a second and say confidently, "I don't plan on just living, I plan on winning. Clearly I'm far too young and attractive to die."

She laughs and I give a crooked smile, and I think she might be blushing. I look away and cast my vision to the window. I can see the ocean surely fading in the distance as we travel further inland. I close my eyes and take deep breaths, swallowing as much air as possible. My breaths are numbered. Just then, Marmy bobbles into the compartment, spiking up her hair even more.

"Now, your mentors will be in here shortly. Oh here they are!" Marmy squeals.

An elderly woman followed by a tough looking man walk into the compartment. The woman flashes me a grin and the man looks me over skeptically. "You take your pick first, Mags," says the man.

"I'll take him," she says sweetly. I smile at her, she looks fragile and frail, but they're is also a spirit about her I can't put my finger on. I look over to Allison, hoping she won't be too jealous or angered. On the contrary, she looks utterly relieved. Maybe I would be too, if I didn't see that spark, that is. She is just an old woman. " I'm Mags and this here is Vincent. Would you two liked to be trained together or would you prefer to be separated?"

"Separated works fine," Allison says before I could tell them that I really don't care.

So Allison and Vincent go to a separate compartment and leave Mags and me alone. She studies me for a minute or so, her cheery smile never vanishes. "Your a handsome young man, aren't you? Now, if I'm going to mentor you, I'd like to know some things about you," Mags says.

"Uhm, alright. My name is Finnick Odair; I'm 14 years old and-"

"Oh, no dear! That won't be necessary; I'll ask you some questions and you just answer them," she says, smiling even still. "What's your favorite color? Now, don't give me that look, just answer."

"Green, like the ocean," I answer. I'm not sure about Mags anymore. I thought there was something about her, a spark, a glint in those brown eyes, but maybe I was wrong. Surely Vincent and Allison would be talking tactics and murder plans, and here we are, discussing my favorite color!

After thirty minutes, I hardly hear the questions anymore. I just answer casually.

"What's your family like, Finnick? Brothers or sisters? Parents?" Mags asks a little louder.

As much as this woman puzzles me, I can't lie to her. "I have an older brother, Sebastian, but he died three months ago. His boat and body were found along Rock's Edge by port. My mother was driven into depression because of it."

"Your honest," she whispers, "I like that. My own parents died when I was very young, so I lived with aunt. I was 16 when I was reaped for the Hunger Games. When I returned, my aunt had died of pneumonia. I was alone. But, I didn't let it destroy me. I warn you now, Finnick, that these Games will test you. They'll show you who you really are. I want you to be prepared. So now, we can begin talking about tactics."

I smile at her, not my award-winning, confident smile, but a goofy, boyish smile. So, we begin discussing strategy. Confident and attractive, that's what I'm playing at. Sponsors will eat it up; every wink will be a case of food.

"Now, don't be too arrogant. Arrogance is something that sticks with you after awhile. We still need your head to fit into your costume."

I raise my head and laugh. My eye catches the window. City buildings, all immense and radiant tower over the train. A banner hung from one building flashes in bright colors **WELCOME TO THE CAPITOL, BRAVE TRIBUTES!** We're here.


	3. Shallow as a Puddle

**I really hope you enjoy Chapter 3 :) Thanks again to Suzanne Collins and all the people who read this. Please review, it makes my day **

Chapter 3-

Shallow as a Puddle

The woman prodded and poked my bare skin, her tongue making a strange clicking noise in the back of her throat. She had orange skin with silver tattoos swooping across her arms and face giving her a likeness with some sort of strange bird. Her long hooked nose only helped the illusion.

As she continues to peck at me with her ridiculously long nails, my teeth grind together. I don't like this woman. She hasn't said a word to me since I stripped down, unless you count the occasional squeal of approval over my muscles and flesh. Mags told me her name was Equilla, and that I should play nice and do whatever she says. Don't make enemies inside your own camp. Her tongue glides over her pale blue lips and she gives what I think is meant to be a reassuring smile.

"You are so handsome, darling," she whispers in my ear, far to close for my comfort. "I think the more we show of that glowing skin of yours," she continued in a seductive-type voice, "the better."

I inhale deeply. Mags told me it might come to this. "Admit it boy, you're attractive," she had said. "They'll make you a out to be some type of god."

She was right, of course. The way my prep team stares at me- a mixture of awe, lust, and hunger. It absolutely scares me, but I have to be confident. I have to be strong. _God, Finnick! _I scold myself_, if your afraid of a woman in weird clothes, your dead meat in the arena._

"That sounds like a great idea, Equilla," I try to sound gallant, "you are the brilliant stylist, after all."

"You make me blush, you sweet boy," Equilla laughed. At least it might have been a laugh. It sounded somewhat like a squawk, honestly.

I was paraded to an area filled with horses and tributes. I keep glancing at my bare chest, hoping that clothes will magically appear there. Not that I'm self-conscious about my body, I know it looks great. Duh. It's just, I can tell people are staring me down. The opening ceremonies were everyone's favorite part back home. No blood, just a lot of funny costumes. Funny was just the word to describe this lot.

Typically, tributes dress up in garments that represent their District. District 1's tributes were shining and glittery with flamboyant makeup. District 2 were miners with rocks stuck to their chests. District 3 looked like they'd rolled around in electric wires. 5's costumes were glowing bright, not bad, but not good either. District 6 had train tracks as a belt. District 7 were lumberjacks. District 8 wore patchwork clothing that made them look like homeless people. District 9 looked like sticks of barley. 10's tributes were dressed as cows, and the outfits did nothing for their figure. District 11 looked like simple farmers that you might see in old drawings. And District 12- Oh God!- are they actually naked? Yes, stark naked and covered in coal dust. Bold move, and kind of disturbing.

Allison, my district partner, is wearing a sequined mermaid suit, with a seashell bra. Alright, that's pretty revealing. Not as revealing as District 12, not as revealing as me. Equilla dressed me in matching merman outfit, my bare chest covered in a tanning solution. We wait for the parade to begin by the white horses.

"Nice outfit," Allison says, her cinnamon skin sparkling in the moonlight. Is she being serious? I honestly think I look ridiculous, nothing 'nice' about it. I decide to play it safe and manage a quick smile and a "thanks." But Allison continues to press the conversation.

"I'm going to join the Career pack; what about you?" she asks, pulling at her shimmery fishtail skirt.

I had thought of this many times throughout my stay here. Who my allies would be, what my strategy is. Mags had offered some advice, but like I knew she would, left it up for me to decide. I didn't like the Careers. Never have, never will sort of thing. I don't know if it's their incredulously arrogant attitude or just the idea of the toughest and meanest banning together to take out the weak. I just knew I wouldn't join them, unless it was to keep my enemies close.

Allison nudges me forward, knocking me out of my daze. "It's starting."

I'm sitting with the other tributes on a large stage, waiting for my interview. I close my eyes as District 1 boy yaps about how honored he is, and how he's going to murder everyone in a matter of days. I reflect over the past days and think how swimmingly they have gone.

My carriage outfit was a success, though I wouldn't quite call it an outfit, considering how little material they're actually was. The crowd relished in my bare skin at the opening ceremony and I outshone the other tributes.

Training couldn't have gone better. I made friends with all the right people, showed my skill with a trident, and that was it. Allison and I were both asked to be part of the Career group and I graciously excepted. I disliked Careers tremendously, but this gives me the perfect opportunity to kill them in there sleep. Thoughts like these had recently occurred to me, and though at first I dismissed them and chastised myself, now I welcome thoughts like this. Thoughts become plan. Plan becomes action, and action becomes victory.

And now, my interview. I had rehearsed and rehearsed in my head what I would say to Caesar Flickerman, who was decked out in a fantastic shade of yellow. District 3 girl, a scrawny spectacled girl of 15 was discussing her stand on some of the technology going into the event. Boring... Then the buzzer sounds and she sits. I raise from my velvet seat and step forward to greet Caesar. We gives me a friendly gesture to sit down and the timer begins.

"So, Finnick Odair, I can tell already that the girls here at the Capitol are in love with you, and in such short time. How do you do it, son?" Caesar asks in his easy way.

"I'm just lucky, I suppose," I give a sensuous grin to my adoring fans. They go wild with shrieks and giggles. Not just girls my age either, women a good 20 years older than me. Gross.

"So, my boy, do you have a girl back home waiting for your return?" Caesar questions.

My mind instantly goes to the nameless girl on the beach. Is she waiting for me? Probably not; I don't even know her name. I let out a laugh and give the crowd a wink, "I'm sure there are a string of hearts I left broken, sadly. But as to going back? When I win, I'm not sure if I'll ever want to leave with all the pretty girls here." Of course I didn't believe a word coming from my mouth. I know that most the girls in District 4 thought I was good looking, but would they be truly heart-broken? No, I don't think so. And Capitol girls are as far from pretty as you can get. With their strange hair-dos and makeup, they resemble animals more than they do people.

But as soon as the words escape my lips, the crowd lets out a collective sigh. The buzzer goes off, far too quickly it would seem. But I know with that one inhale, I've got sponsors lining up. I might even get a trident sent to me if I'm lucky. The persona I've created for the cameras laughs at this, telling me silently, "Who needs luck when your Finnick Odair?"


	4. 6 Years Later

**Here is Chapter 4 to Finnick's story. Sorry that the last chapter was so short. I hope to make it up here :) Please feel free to review.**

Chapter 4

- -6 years later-

It's impossible to walk down the streets of District 4 without being assaulted by pestering girls. I put up with it, letting them think I love the attention. After some time, you grow to truly love the attention. So, now, most days I lap in the glory. I let them shower me with kisses and questions about how I won the 65th Hunger Games. But today isn't the day. I'm in no mood to be bothered by annoying teenager girls. I have to get to Victor's Village.

I cordially apologize to them for my rude departure and start at a steady and quick pace to Mag's home. Vincent said she wasn't feeling well, and I know she's getting older. One of these days might be her last. I know she's a tough woman, and doesn't particularly like me looking after her so much, but I can't help it. She's a grandmotherly figure to me, she helped me survive my time in the arena, and she's the only person that understands me now. She and I had spoken most days since my Games. She was the only person that could grasp my feeling of guilt and shame at murdering those innocent lives.

My mother tries to understand, but I honestly don't want her to. I don't wish for her to know all the things I've been forced to do; it might change her perspective of me forever. I want to be, in her eyes, the same boy that left for the Capitol six years ago. But, so much had changed since then.

When I turned 18, I was called to the Capitol for a special birthday celebration in my honor. President Snow himself was hosting the affair. My mother couldn't come along, she was far to frail for such long travel, so Mags went with me. After the party, one that was filled with drinks Haymitch (a man I met shortly after winning) would enjoy thoroughly, President Snow requested I speak with him privately. I met him in a small round room, stuffy and apparently unused. He paced the length of the rooms several times, giving me a foreboding feeling. His face was enough to scare anyone, but when he stopped pacing and looked straight into my eyes, I felt like I was staring at Death itself. His face was pulled back and surgically altered to make him look... younger? I suppose that was what he was aiming for. His puffy lips were tight and looked as though it was a struggle to move them.

"Finnick, I have an offer for you. Not necessarily an offer, more of a deal, you see," he began. "All of those wonderful people who sponsored you in the arena are growing restless; they want their dues. They want some form of acknowledgment from you. "

"Do you want me to write them each thank-you-notes?" I ask, trying to keep the tone light. But it only could get darker, that was obvious.

"Mr. Odair, Capitol women are fickle. They need a certain type of acknowledgment, something to show them that you truly are the sex symbol you've made yourself out to be."

"You want me to sleep with them? I'm sorry, but I can't do that," I said. What a crazy idea! Sick and twisted as I knew the Capitol is, I never expected to be asked to sell my body.

"I'm afraid, Mr. Odair, that you don't have much a choice. I must remind you what happens to those who defy the Capitol, and me. They have a habit of ending up in tragic accidents. I don't want that to happen to you, my boy. Or your mother."

That night, my first sponsor awaited me in her room. She had donated the most money for my trident that won me the games, and now she was reaping her reward. I left her room feeling used and tired. I was sick to my stomach in the knowledge that this was to be my life forever. I made my way back to the room I was staying in. Mags was sitting on my bed, eyes looking like she might've just been crying. She patted the place next to her, beckoning for me to sit.

I cried in her arms, and she held my shaking body. She patted me gingerly on the back when I was done with the tears saying, "Fin, I should have seen this coming. I'm so sorry, dear." She offered a warm smile, filled with sympathy. I felt little shame in exploding in emotional tears. I probably should've been stronger, considering I had just turned 18. I was now a fully grown man. But, I couldn't help the sorrow and pity I felt for myself.

Now as I walk through Victor's Village to Mag's home, I think of all the things and people I've done in a years time. Too many notches on the bed post to count now. Too many hours screaming in the mirror, telling myself to be a man and get over the miserable life I now lead.

I walk into the home without knocking, letting myself in to my second home. Mags sits at the table, sipping tea. She tilts her head slightly as I walk into the kitchen and take a seat next to her. She seems fine, but you can tell by the deepening lines etched in her face that she is much older than she thinks she is. Her speech has started to become a jumbled slur of words that only I can understand.

"Fin," she mumbles, "wha're you doin' here so ear'e'ly. I wan't expectin' you 'till supper."

"I just heard you were having a hard time alone, that's all," I smile at her. I get up to get myself a glass of tea, then sit beside her.

"So," I say as she takes another drink, "The reaping is tomorrow. What are you thinking?"

She says nothing, but looks out the window, concentrating on something I can't see. I expected this; Mags never enjoys talking about up-coming games. Once they pass, she'll speak of them, but she doesn't like talking about future death. I don't blame her, I just needed to talk to someone about it. Along with mentoring the tribute this year, I will also be on call when we arrive at the Capitol.

It doesn't bother me as much as it used to. I've found my way to secretly get revenge on the Capitol. 'Secretly' being the key word. In exchange for a night with the dashing Finnick Odair, all you have to do is tell me a secret. You'd be surprised how willingly girls will tell you things once your dressed in nothing but air.

I leave the house in a hurry, I should've been at the Game Center thirty minutes ago. Oh well, how much trouble can I really get into? I am Finnick Odair, after all.

Inside the Game Center I give pointers to new inspiring Careers. Teaching them all I know and all I've learned. I'm asked to do this every Thursday afternoon, and I don't refuse. I dislike being alone, and this crowded warehouse is the perfect hide out- even though the only one I'm running from is myself.

It's the same every Thursday at the Game Centers, the continuous sound of girls giggling, trainers yelling, and bodies being slammed down onto the mats. I go up to a group of girls, partly for their enjoyment and partly for mine. One of them, obviously the leader of the pack, winks at me as I move closer. She has blonde hair and honey-gold eyes; her soft face contradicts the spear she holds in her right hand. She's pretty, most guys would consider her breathtaking I assume, but in my mind, she's just another face. I don't let her see that on mine though, I give her a crooked smile and talk to her and her followers.

"You all look like your training really hard, girls," I say in a playful voice.

"Oh we are, Finnick," says the blonde girl. It's not surprising she knows my name- heck! Everyone knows my name. "It's just throwing this spear is so hard. Do you think you can give me a hand?" She offers another wink.

I glide behind her and hold her hand in mine, helping her to aim at the target. Together, we throw the spear and it hits dead center. A perfect kill.

"I'm Hannah, by the way," she whispers in my ear. Her friends and her walk away to begin another training routine. I leave the building at 6 o'clock, the Sun still blazing in the afternoon sky. It's a beautiful day, what to do now? The answer comes to me before my mind catches it, and I'm walking before I know where I'm going. I walk down the road, past the cottage that used to be my home, and straight to the beach.

The horizon was a warm mixture of color and light and I took it in with a deep breath. I moved forward too quickly, not noticing someone in my way. I bumped the girl to the ground and the seashells she was holding scatter along the sand. She scrambles to pick up the shells and I lean down to help her.

"Oh, I'm so sorry," I say, actually concerned for the girl. I hit her pretty hard.

"I'm fine, don't worry," she looks up at me with a loving and genuine smile. It fades slightly as she takes in my face, but only slightly. Her smile made me catch my breath, or maybe it was her eyes. How could eyes be so green and carry so much depth. They look as if they knew something that no one else does. Her hair falls loosely across her shoulders in beautiful dark brown waves. She moves a piece of fallen hair behind her ear and I tell myself to breath. This was the girl I saw at the beach all those years ago. How I had managed not to see her in six years, I won't know. But I curse myself for not looking for her.

For the first time in, well, forever, I find my stammering for words, "I... I... sorry," I barely manage.

She looks confused. Did I say something wrong? I try to help her pick up her items, but she says, "No, honestly, I got it. Don't worry."

She brushes off the sand from her knees and walks away. She turns and waves and gives me that warm smile that makes my heart collapse. She turns the corner to the road, and I find myself staring at where she walked. Woah! What was that? That had never happened before. I am always so confident around girls. I can't let one girl destroy my persona forever. No, if one girl messes all this up, people could end up dead.

_Alright, so it's decided,_ I promise myself, _the only way to get over that nameless girl is to hate her. I will hate her. _

Somehow I know that this won't be possible. I know that hating that girl may be the hardest thing I'll ever have to do, with her warm and simple smile. And those eyes that see right through me. But it has to happen, I have to forget about her. I have a crowd to please. And people to keep alive. I wouldn't want to add that girl to that list.


	5. Pulled in by Tides

**OK, sorry that I haven't uploaded anything in a long time. I have been a bit busy. So, here is chapter 5 to Finnick and Annie. I hope you guys enjoy it :D**

Chapter 5

Pulled in by Tides

I woke up late the next day, the day of the reaping. Nightmares had plagued me that night, screaming children trapped in nets. Blood on my hands, both figuratively and literally. A face of a girl with green eyes, pleading with me. She was screaming as I ran her through. I woke up disgusted with myself. How could I hurt someone like her? But, it was only a dream. That nameless girl is safe. I rise from my sheets, dressing quickly in a green dress shirt and slacks. Today is a special occasion.

I look out the window of my home in Victor's Village. District 4 looks different from here. I thought that from anywhere the mornings would look the same: pale gray mornings, untidy cobblestone streets, and wistful shorelines, damp with the morning tide. But as the late morning set upon my window, all I could see were the rows of houses, all replicas of my own. Clipped green grasses, flowers showing their petals to greet the new day, and yellow sunshine rimmed with a warm glow. Some would call this beautiful, I find it simply dull.

Even from upstairs, I can smell my mother's breakfast cooking in the pans. The smell gives me the strength to go down the swallowing steps. I would much rather lie in bed all day, but I have places to be. At two I have to be sitting on a wooden stage, sitting along side my fellow victors, staring into the faces of scared children.

My mother greets me with her gentle smile, and she sets a plate at the table. We talk very little these days. Just because I haven't told her of the dreaded things I've done, doesn't mean she doesn't know. I eat in silence, her gaze never leaving.

Just as I finish the breakfast, my mother's voice speaks, "How did you sleep, Fin?"

I'm befuddled by my mother's question. She never asks how I sleep, knowing full well I'm always fighting the nightmares the arena so graciously gave me. Mags would ask, she knew it was better to talk about it, but my mother? She doesn't talk to begin with. I decide it's better not to tell her the truth about my dreams, it might scare her. That's the last thing I want.

"Fine, mom," I answer and rise from my chair.

"I heard you screaming. I'm worried about you," she says, so softly that I could pretend I didn't hear her. But I am filled with a sudden rage.

"Why do you care? Don't worry about how I sleep... or who I sleep with for that matter," the words keep flooding out before I can control them. "I see how you look at me, and don't pretend you don't know! The way you see me has changed. I'm tired of answering to people."

"Finnick, dear, you don't need to answer to me," she said, her hand reaching out to touch my face. I jerked my head back and her face fell. "I expected you to change once you got back from the arena. But, no matter what happened, this is not you, Finnick. You are kind, and gentle. You're a good man. You aren't who you think you are."

"THIS IS WHO I AM!" I yelled, fury causing my body to shake. "I HATE MYSELF, AND IF YOU KNEW WHO I REALLY WAS, SO WOULD YOU! I don't want your pity or your help. I'm all grown up now, mom."

With that, I storm out of the house in whirlwind of anger and guilt. I know that if I looked back, my mother would be standing in the doorway, waiting for me to turn around and say something else. As much as I hate myself for this, I'm just going to keep walking. I know that as soon as I'm out of her sight, she'll cry. I'm selfish and I hate myself.

I walk my way to the Town Square, watching the younger children file in line. Some girls smile at me and I do my best to not let the scowl show on my face; I wink at one and she grabs her friend's arm, laughing childishly.

My mind races, thinking of the games, my mother, the future tributes. When I finally return to Earth, I'm sitting on the stage already. The crowd seems to be holding their breath, rattled with nerves. Of course, they're are the few Careers who looked positively bored with the day's events.

Mayor Lyneson, her gray hair tied in a tight bun, rises from her chair and begins to speak to the crowd. She does her routine, yapping about the Dark Days and how the Hunger Games are necessary. My mind floats once more to my mother, her soft voice that used to caress my wounds. She didn't deserve my anger; she obviously is worth more than that. I couldn't help it, and I tell myself that I need to apologize. Even though every word I spoke was true, she shouldn't have to hear it. She was my mother, the only person besides Mags who would love me unconditionally. Unconditional love is too much. I don't deserve such grace.

Once the mayor is finished, Marmy Hapshaw hobbles to the microphone, looking as bizarre as possible. Her hair was green now, and her skin was an odd tint of blue. She puckers her lips as she begins to talk and give her opening monologue, and my head wanders once more. Who will the new tributes be? I have a good idea of who the male tribute would be. The volunteering Careers were selected ahead of time through a series of tests. It had been between two strong boys before I left, feeling ashamed by the obvious cheating. I wasn't there the day they finally chose between the two males, so I was a bit curious.

The female tribute, on the other hand, I had no idea. This year, no Career was to volunteer. So, it truly would be random. My eyes scan the crowd, looking for the girl who I desperately am trying to forget. I spot her.

She is staring at the podium, looking bored. Her dazzling green eyes pull me in, and I find myself staring again. I don't know why I keep doing this. I take a moment to examine her face. She is one of the few who don't have a tragic look on her face. I don't know whether this is admirable or idiotic. Everyone fears death. I tell myself, for what must be the millionth time to stop looking. She is just a girl, and even more so, a girl I swore to forget. Swore to hate. It was for both of our own goods. My thoughts are dragged back to reality as I hear Marmy finish her beginning speech.

"Ladies first, as always," she sung into the microphone. I told myself not to grimace, but to keep the sexy smile on my face. Cameras were here after all. It still made me sick thinking about the Capitol people. How to them it was just game, a sport, for them to enjoy blissfully. How barbaric.

Marmy Hapshaw, with her twisted and altered smile, clawed her way through the glass bowl, until finally her hand grabbed a small piece of paper. She fiddled it between her jeweled fingers as she made her way back to the pulpit. She let out a small cough to get the crowds attention. As if she didn't already have it. All the girls in the crowd were hanging onto her words.

"And the female tribute that will represent District 4 in the 71st Hunger Games is," she paused for dramatic effect, "Annie Cresta!"

I looked into the crowd, trying to spot the unfortunate girl. When I saw a figure making its way through the crowd to the stage. My eyes focused on her and something inside me screamed. Walking to the wooden stage was none other than the girl from the beach. The strange green-eyed girl who I swore to hate.

**OK, I was going to make this chapter a bit longer, but I thought this was the right place to end. So, I'll upload the next chapter later, and there is gonna be some conversations with Finnick and Annie. PLEASE comment and review. It makes me happy and encourages me to keep writing!**


	6. Causing Waves

**This is Chapter 6, I hope you like it. Please comment and review and stuffs, thanks :) Enjoy! (oh and sorry about spelling mistakes in this one, I didn't edit thoroughly, because I felt like I should just upload already)**

Chapter 6

Causing Waves

I couldn't really process it. I just sat there in the chair on top the stage, staring. She just looked so calm, like she was already calculating a way to win. She would have no problem getting sponsors, I thought to myself, she's pretty. I watched her as a boy volunteered and then took his place beside her. She looked at him with concern, the first emotion to portray clearly on her face. Did she know the guy? Well, if she does, that really sucks. I had made my way to the train, preparing myself to finally talk to her. I kept telling myself over and over that I would have to be less than friendly to her. I didn't like it, but it was the truth. I didn't want to be her friend. It's dangerous to be close to me. So now, I must stand in the hall and be serene.

I continue to stare down at my shoes, waiting to enter the compartment. Vincent, my fellow mentor, waits along with me. He isn't as nervous as I am. He has no reason to be. His face looks patiently bored. We wait in the room next to the tributes, letting them soak in what just happened before interrupting. Marmy Hapshaw will be telling them how much they'll love the Capitol by now.

Vincent makes his way to the door, and I follow. I have to stick to my plan; I can't let this weird and strange girl become my friend. As we walk into the room, I am surprised to see that she doesn't look like she was crying. Her face was clear of those tell-all red blotches. She looked perfectly calm. I can't help but admire her for that. The boy standing next to her was talking to her animatedly, telling her a funny story I assume by the way she just giggled. He smirked at her and winked. I don't like this guy.

I hadn't been paying much attention to the reaping after the girl was reaped. Her name is Annie. That's a nice name. Right, so back to the guy. I didn't really care much about him, but Mags had noticed how lost I was, so she casually brought up how lucky the boy he volunteered for is. He was 15, the is Career 18; the boy was weak and scrawny, and this Career is muscular and fit. He looks like he could kill without flinching. Probably could. His name is Matthew. I don't like that name. Or the tribute who it belongs too. I don't know why, but I just know.

When the two notice us in the room, they both stop laughing and look to us. The girl, Annie, stares at me expectantly, and I cast my gaze anywhere but her deep green eyes. She might notice this too, because she looks at me curiously, asking a silent question. "What's wrong?" she seems to be asking.

"I'm Vincent Sawyer, victor of the 49th Hunger Games. I'll be one of your mentors," Vincent says, shattering the awkward silence. I know that was my cue to speak.

"I'm Finnick Odair, but of course you know that," I grin at them, "victor of the 65th Hunger Games. Now, whoever gets me as mentor will be the luckiest person to have walked this planet." I had meant that to be a joke, but it came out extremely arrogant and big-headed. Oh well, I don't care. That's who I am. Arrogant. It's what I'm known for. That and my sexiness. I smirk at my thoughts.

"So," I continue, not wanting there to be silence in the train, "we're going to pick the tribute we will be mentoring now. I'll go first, as always."

I look between the two; Matthew, looking at me, a knowing expression settling across his face. He knows I was going to pick him first. I mean, come one, it's obvious. He's a Career. Careers are strong and trained for this sort of thing. I can easily get him enough sponsors, I mean, look at me. No problem there. He isn't that bad looking either. But the fact that he knows all of this, expects me to pick him rubbed me the wrong way. I cast my eyes to Annie. She seems to know who I was going to pick to. She doesn't even mind. She just looks to me, calm and almost smiling, her green orbs flickering some sort of deep understanding of... well... everything. She plays with a strand of her dark brown hair, letting it slip through her fingers. My head fogs up, and before I can stop the words escaping me, they do.

"I pick Annie," I say. I bite my tongue. Did I just say that? By the expressions around the room, I must have. Vincent looks content in knowing he'll get the strong victor, but looks at me confused. Matthew looks at me, dumbstruck. He looks as though he is slowly processing what I had said. Looks like someone can't believe he didn't get picked first. What was this, P.E. class? God, that kid bugs me. And then, Annie. She looks at me surprised. One corner of her mouth slightly curved. I smile back, giving her my winning flirtatious smirk. She quickly suppresses hers and turns her face into a slight grimace. That's odd.

I turn my head and look to Vincent, inviting him to speak. "And so," he says, "would you two like to be mentored separately or together. Usually we do separate, but if you two prefer to strategize as a team..."

"I think we should be mentored individually," Annie says. Her voice floats across the room, taking life and dancing into my ears. She has a soft voice, but it's one not to be overlooked. It held a confidence in it that was surprising. She is pretty small. "I mean, I'm sure Matt has a different strategy that he'd like to follow, and I have no interest in being part of a pack of Careers," she continues. "I don't mean that to be offensive in any way, Matt." She's nice, I think to myself. That's not good. Kindness has no place in the arena.

"That's cool, Annie. I was gonna ask for the same," he says, taking no offense whatsoever. He just smiles to her and walks towards Vincent. Vince takes the gesture and left the room, Matthew walking close behind.

Annie and I watch them go. I look back at her and notice she's not in her seat anymore. I turn my head again and see she's behind me, looking out the window. Wow, she's fast. And quiet. That's a good quality to have. I wonder if she can kill easily. She'll have to. I open my mouth about to say something to get her attention, but she turns around as I do so.

"So your the charming Finnick Odiar," she says, looking me over. I notice she's not smiling, or flirting. She's inspecting. Why? I'm the mentor, she's the tribute! I should be looking her over, seeing if she's up to expectation. Well, I think to myself. She's opinionated. It might not be too hard to hate her after all. I look to her, winking flirtatiously.

"Am I what you expected?" I ask, arrogantly doing a slow spin, so she can get a better look.

"Can't say you are," she says sadly. She didn't say it in a jerkish, rude way, she meant it as though I really wasn't what she had hoped. She didn't mean to hurt me, but I felt like I'd been slapped across the face. She shocked me when she continued to speak in her melodic voice, "You're not who you pretend to be. You're not a big-headed brute like you act."

OK! What? Where did that come from? Honestly, she doesn't even know me. She looks at me, waiting for a response. What do you say to that? Her green eyes shine and bare into mine. She's not going to speak until I do... "Are- are you always so," I say, lost for words (which never happens), "so blunt?"

"Yes," she says without hesitation. I cast my eyes to the floor. What is up with her? I always saw her calculating things in her head, looking as though she never saw something, but she saw what it was made of, and how it worked. I guess she has me figured out... No, she doesn't. I am the big-headed jerk I "pretend to be". I hate to admit it, but it's the truth. It didn't start like that, but arrogance sticks. So, she's wrong.

"Sorry to burst your bubble, sweetie," I whisper, "but you don't know me. Not even the half of it."

"I know your not who you think you are. Even if you can't see it. You're a good guy," she says softly, smiling sweetly.

I look at her, thinking how crazy she is. Why does she think she knows me? We've never spoken, except that one time at the beach. When I tried to help her. If she thinks that makes me a good guy, she is far too trusting. She will never make it out alive with a mind like that. Speaking of which, we still haven't spoken strategies.

"If you're done criticizing me, we have to talk about your plan for the arena," I say loudly, breaking the unbearable silence. "You said you didn't want to be with the Careers?"

"I don't," Annie says simply, her eyes still on me.

"That might be a mistake. The Careers usually win and it would be easy to get you in. You're pretty, fit, and your District 4. Heck, it's expected of you," I go on.

"I want no part in the Career pack," she says, and I think she might be angry. It's hard to tell, she always has a gentle breath. "They're nothing but strong tough idiots that ban together to pick on the weak and small. They're bullies. Bullies with weapons and blood-lust. It makes me sick; so try to convince me to join them and I will have to ask you to leave the compartment."

"OK, calm down," I say, my hands raised in surrender. "I am here to help you, Annie. I'm going to help you. You just need to trust me." And as I say it, I know that with that promise to her, I make a promise to myself. As much as I wish to hate this girl, this fiery individual, I can't. I want to see her make it out alive. I need to.


	7. Crashing Sails

**I hope you like the chapter :) Please comment and yup, that's it!**

Chapter 7

Crashing Sails

I walked back to the Training building, tired and miserable. Another Capitol woman to add to the list. Some more interesting information about President Snow. Not much more than I already had been told or figured out, but still, it was something. It had been a very long time since one woman had told me Snow's biggest secret.

In between her lustful kisses, she told me about his diabolical path to power. Him poisoning all who stood in his way, drinking the poison as to not be too obvious. But every poison has an antidote; his mouth, though, was blistered and bloody from all the years of tyranny. You could smell the blood from a distance, so he always had his prized white roses with him, hoping the scent would overpower the blood. There are no words to describe how disgusted I was... More than usual while in a Capitol woman's bed.

The large twelve story building rises above me and I enter. I see a familiar face waiting by the elevator, and I smile to myself. Johanna Mason, her brown eyes looki ng angry (as always), stands outside the elevator tapping her foot impatiently.

"Johanna," I say, walking up to her. She looks at me and a smirk replaces her grimace instantly. We had been good friends since her victor's tour when she came to District 4. We both had experienced terrible loss, though her's was far worse than mine.

"Finnykins!" she yells, hugging me. "So, how you been, sailor?" she asks, obviously flirting.

"I've been keeping busy," I say, winking.

"Well, I figured," she smiles, "Did you just get back from another- uhm- appointment," she questions, her voice dropping into a grave whisper.

"Yep," I say nonchalantly. I wait for her to keep talking about the subject, but she doesn't. One of the reasons we're friends.

"How are your tributes this year? Do you think you'll win?" she asks as casually as though we were speaking of the weather.

"Well, I'm not sure," I say honestly. "I'm mentoring a girl named Annie Cresta. I don't know if she's up for the Games."

"Yeah, I saw her in the opening ceremonies," Johanna goes on, "she's pretty. That dress made of netting didn't do her any bad either. I also hear that she's not too bad in the Training Center. Not as good as the Careers, naturally. Her looks make up for that. She must have plenty of sponsors lined up."

"She has quite a few. Not as many as I had, mind you," I say arrogantly, smirking.

"No one could ever compete with you, Finny. I saw the way you looked at her though."

What? How do I look at her? Johanna must be insane "What are you talking about, Jo?"

She gives me a knowing smile, "It's just that I can tell you care about her life. It's refreshing, actually. My tributes are going to die in the blood bath, for sure. They're a couple of weaklings."

I laugh at her, she can be a real bitch sometimes. We notice that the elevator had arrived a good while ago and we get inside. We continue small talk about her "small, weak tributes" until the elevator dings on the fourth floor.

Annie sits on the couch, talking again to Matthew. He winks at her, and she rolls her eyes. I stop a little before they see me as to eavesdrop on their conversation. I know it's frowned upon, but I could care less.

"So, how do you think your family is coping?" Matthew asks her, probably trying to comfort her. I wanna punch him.

"I'm not sure," Annie says softly, worry creeping like a shadow across her face, "I hope they're all right. My parents are probably distraught. Nico will be brooding his time away, sulking. He looked so mad in the Justice Building. And little Sophia will surely be crying, poor girl. I wish I could tell them I'm alright. But I can't lie like that..." her voice fades into the nightly air.

Matthew looks at her sadly; then hugs her. She doesn't shy away from the hug, which part of me wishes she would. I can't stand to see his slimy hands on her, who does he think he is? Feeling girls up like that? _Your jealous_, a voice inside my head tells me. That's crazy, I don't get jealous. Especially of girls that are going to be dead within the next week. I don't get jealous. I'm Finnick Odair.

As I walk into the social room, Annie retreats from the hug, probably not wanting to show any physical affection in public. Matthew casts me a piercing glare, but I only smirk at him. He says goodnight to us both, gets up, and leaves. Annie doesn't watch him go, she just stares at the black TV screen on the wall. Something changes in her eyes. She looks so defenseless.

I stand outside her room, pacing. She's been in there a long time, getting dressed and prepped for her interview. She had done surprisingly well in training, she's good at tying knots and snares. She should be, considering her family makes most of the nets for District 4. She hadn't made any allies, stupid mistake. I had told her last night that it wasn't too late to join the Careers. That was a mistake.

We were in the social room, the fourth floor of the Training Building decorated to themes of the ocean. White walls with wistful blues and greens and sea shells on the walls. She sat on the couch, staring at the TV, though it wasn't turned on. Her usually vibrant green eyes looked lost. For the first time, her calculating expression was gone. She just sat there, appearing so helpless. _I hope they don't think she's weak,_ I thought to myself. _She could be so easily killed. Does she know that? _

"Annie," I said to get her attention. Her head looks at me, and her knowing expression returns once more. "It's not too late to join the Careers. You have a much better chance of surviving that way and-"

"Finnick," Annie said, her hair flowing down her shoulders, "stop. For the last time. Stop!" she begins to yell. "I am not a Career! I don't even want to go into the arena! Everyone can tell I'm going to die." As the words flew out in a quick blur of yells, a single tear swept along her face, and my heart sunk to the bottom of my stomach. How could I make someone so innocent and pure cry? I must be some monster; but before I can say sorry, she leaves the room. Leaving me there, alone, and suddenly very cold.


	8. And Then Came a Hurricane

Chapter 8

And Then Came a Hurricane

She opens the door to her room, I can feel my eyes widening. I take the second to compose myself, clearing my throat. She saunters out in her green dress, it swaying around her like billowing waves, drifting to the floor. I try again and again to pry my eyes off her, but I can't. She looks heavenly. Radiant.

"Finnick?" I hear her question, but I can't respond. I'm captivated, taken prisoner by her enticing eyes. She looks shyly to the floor, maybe inspecting her dress, and I crack an unexpected smile.

"You look beautiful," I can hear my voice, but I don't feel myself. I'm floating in what seems like a dream, looking at an angel.

"Thanks," she sighs. A stand of hair falls into her face, and I reach forward to place it back behind her ear. Surprisingly, she leans slightly into my hand, closing her eyes. As my fingers caress her delicate cheek, a flame surges through my fingertips, spreading quickly through my whole body, leaving me breathless. The sudden fire shocks my hand away from her and back to my side. And the second I pull away, I wished I hadn't.

"I have to go back in for a bit of finishing touches," she says, sounding dazed. Did she feel the spark too? She leaves me standing by the door, looking like a lovestruck fool. _Love? Where did that come from, Finnick?_ the voice in my head scolded. _You don't love her; she's going to die._

That feeling, though, as our skin touched... It was like a flame that didn't burn, an electric shock that shook me and cleared my eyes. I look around the room that I had seen a dozen times before, and everything looked the same, but somehow different. The walls are brighter, the patterns more vibrant. I look outside the window as the setting sun dived under the Capitol skyline. Somehow, even the sunset, which I had never thought of as beautiful, seems majestic. I look around, everything has changed. Or maybe, I have changed.

I smile to myself and begin to walk to the room to watch the interviews. The walk there is pleasant, heck, I can't even feel my feet moving. Before I know it, I'm sitting in the small room with Marmy Hapshaw and Vincent. We wait for a few moments before Matthew pompously strides into the room followed by a beautiful Annie. She's laughing at another one of his jokes. I want to punch him. _You're jealous_, the voice in my head says. _I know_, I say back proudly.

We watch the screen in silence as District 1 girl, I think her name is  
Dazzle, flirts with the crowd. The buzzer goes off and District 1 boy, Glint, talks about how excited he is to kill. Typical Career. District 2 girl flashes by quickly, and I cast my eyes towards Annie, sitting two people away from me. She fiddles with a small piece of rope, tying numerous knots into it. It seems like a nervous habit. She shouldn't be nervous, she's beautiful. A buzzer goes off, and I see a District 3 girl getting on the stage. I had missed two interviews watching Annie. Time goes by far too quickly.

Marmy Hapshaw stands up and tells Annie it's time to go. My breath catches as I look at her again. She's beautiful. She always has been, it just took her touch to get me to admit it. She smiles at me one last time before leaving the room with Marmy.

Vincent begins pacing the room, nervously, like he does before all interviews. Matthew scoots closer to me on the couch and looks at me like he wants to say something, but just smirks.

"Do you have something to say?" I ask harshly.

"You don't need to worry about her, I'll make it quick," he smiles.

"What are you talking about?" I ask, getting angry at his audacity.

"Her death. Everyone's targeting her first. She has plenty of sponsors, makes her vulnerable, being so liked. She's weak, too. She couldn't hurt a fly; I know Annie. So, I volunteered to be the one to finish her off. They wanted to make it slow and painful, make it a show you know?" he goes on flamboyantly "I talked them into letting me do the honor, and I'll make it quick."

"You'd turn on your own District partner like that? Someone so innocent?" I snarl, a bitter taste settling in my mouth. My stomach turns in rage and I can feel my blood boiling and my body getting hot. I really want to punch him now.

"Easily," he smiles again, "it's all a game after all."

And the buzzer sounds as my fist greets his jaw. He looks shocked, and I only grimace at him. Vincent yells at me, but I only continue scowling. The nerve of this punk. I don't care what kind of trouble I get into. I had to punch him.

He was partly right though. Annie was too good. She was too kind for the Games. I saw this coming. I knew she couldn't kill, I had overlooked it for too long. When she gets back from her interview, I'll talk to her. And I look to the screen, she sits down next to Caesar Flickerman and the crowd automatically loves her. Of course they do, I think. She's incredible.

"So, Annie," Flickerman begins, "How are you feeling about the Games? Confident? Nervous?"

"Well," Annie says shyly, "I suppose I'm nervous. A little scared maybe."

Caesar Flickerman smiles at her with warmth, "It is perfectly normal to be afraid of death," he says.

"I'm not afraid of dying, not in the least. I'm afraid of the consequences of murder."

_She sounds weak, sweet, but weak, _I say to myself. _Why didn't we play the tough girl act? Oh who am I kidding, Annie is to nice to play at anything. She just wants to be her._

"Spoken like a poet, my dear," Flickerman goes on, looking with sympathy at Annie. "So," he changes the subject, "what is your family like back home? Your parents? Do you have siblings?"

Annie smiles at the memory of her family. "I have two wonderful parents, they're net weavers in District 4. I have an older brother, Nico, and a younger sister, Sophia."

"How precious," Caesar says in his easy-going fashion, "So, my darling, do you have anyone else your missing dearly? A young man, perhaps? A stunning young lady like yourself must have someone?"

Annie smiles slightly and blushes. "I'll take the sudden color in your cheeks as a yes," Caesar giggles. "Tell me about this boy."

"Well," Annie says in her simple and sweet voice, "I met him at the beach. I was very young, I'm sure he doesn't remember, since it wasn't really a meeting, per say. It was more of a glance..." she smiles again, showing her brilliant teeth.

Does she mean me? Am I the special someone she is referring to? No, I can't be. I'm not worthy of her smile, let alone her fancy. But, the first time I saw her... I hear my heart beat like a drum, repeatedly getting louder as she speaks. The tune of her laugh as Caesar makes a classic joke drowns out the lecturing people around me.

"Why did you punch him? He can't be camera ready in time!" they're yelling.

I remember. I can see it so clearly, her playing in the sand as a little girl. I can remember not being able to look away, much like I feel every time I look at Annie. She was also with her friends as we walked to the village square. That was the day of my reaping. The day everything changed.

I vaguely hear a buzzer sound and watch as Annie leaves the stage. I look around the room, the fine colors still bright. Everyone except Vincent was gone, and he was looking at me with daggers in his eyes. I give him a look of apology, hoping it will be enough. Vincent nods, but continues to give me not so friendly glances every now and then.

The sound of the door opening twists my head around. Annie walks into the room, smiling. Her brown hair sweeps across her shoulders, the blush in her cheeks still prominent. She stands there, waiting for me to say something. I want to tell her how wonderfully she did, and in any other case but hers, she would've. But, they're after her. As much as I want to smile back, I can't I just look at her grimly. Her face falls, and so does my heart.

I gesture to Vincent, silently asking him to leave the room. He does so eagerly, sensing the tension. Annie sits down on the couch, again fiddling with a piece of rope.

"What's that?" I ask, nodding towards the rope.

"It's my token," she replies in a hushed voice, "It reminds me of home, you know, weaving nets and all. I tie knots in it to calm me down."

"Oh," I say. "Annie, I have something to tell you. To warn you, actually." I can feel my throat go dry, and her eyes fill with worry.

"Annie," I begin, "the Careers are going to go after you first after the initial blood bath at the Cornucopia. Matthew," my voice breaks as I see her worry deepen, "he's offered to finish you off. They're going to kill you, Annie. It's all been planned. I don't know what you want to do, but I'd say you should kill them when they least expect it after hiding for a few days."

"Matthew wouldn't do that to me," she says, a ferocity in her voice.

"Why wouldn't he Annie? This is a game, and he's playing it," I spit back. How could she defend him? Why would she? He's worthless, and she's so... so... perfect.

"Because he's not like the other Careers!" she retorts.

"Obviously not! If he wants to kill you like he said!"

"Stop!"

"They're saying your weak, do you know that," I yell, my anger rising. "Your too good, you'd die if it wasn't for me helping you! And out in the interview, you saying all that stuff about "the consequences of murder"? Good job clearing off all the sponsors I managed to get you! Your weak Annie, and Matthew sees that. He's planning on killing you!"

"You're lying. Matt and I have been friends since we were kids; he's not just going to betray me like that! He's my friend!"

"Some friend, offering to kill you. Nice judgment in character, there, Annie!"

"The only poor judgment in character I've made is thinking you were any different from the rest of these corrupt Capitol people. Your just like them, full of lies and deceit! Your no better!"

"Stop pretending like you know anything about me," I snarl, "because you don't."

"Your right," Annie whispers, eyes filled with tears. "And I don't want to."

She storms out of the room, hatred and sorrow spilling from her eyes. She doesn't look back before slamming the door shut behind her. Next thing I know, my feet move from behind me and I'm running after her. She left with the elevator, quickly rising and leaving me behind. so I do the only thing I can think of. I run up the stairs, my mind racing but forming no logical thoughts except one._ I'm an idiot_, I say over and over. How could I be so cruel. She's going into the arena tomorrow, and all I've done is hurt her more than she already is.

I walk in, calling her name. "Annie! Annie! Please, answer! I'm sorry!"

I walk to her room, and raise my hand to knock on her door. But, I hear something else.

"I'm sorry I missed your interview, Matt," Annie says in between sobs.

"Don't be sorry, Annie. You obviously went through a lot. Just get some rest."

I walk away, a bitterness settling over me. I shot an angel from heaven and landed her in the arms of some evil mortal. _You're no better than him_, the voice in my head says, _you're probably worse_.

I'm to miserable and filled with self hatred to tell it that I already know.


	9. The Storm Starts

***I would like to thank a few people before beginning my story: My friend Allison, for helping me through a small writer's block; LittleBebeV for commenting something very sweet; snowlitbutterfly, Violet, EucaEuca, PingPong101, for commenting. It all means a lot, so thank you :)**

Chapter 9

The Storm Starts

~Annie's Point of View~

The light peeks its way into my bedroom through the window. I watch as it rises, already awake, sitting up in the bed. I try to blink the burning sensation out of my eyes, not having slept much the night before. I was too afraid to sleep. The nightmares would be too real, the dread I feel fueling my morbid imagination. _They're saying your weak, do you know that? _That line had haunted my restless night, playing in my mind over and over. The fact that it hurt me so much only proved to me it is true. I am weak.

Even my reaction to what Finnick said proved how little strength I actually had. I fall back into my bed, ashamed of my frailty. Finnick tried to warn me, and I just got upset. But how could he say something like that? That Matthew had offered to finish me off for the Careers? That was absurd! He would never do anything like that. We have been friends since we were young; I can trust him. Well, maybe I can. He is a Career. No! Stop thinking like that, Annie. Matt is your friend. Finnick couldn't have been telling the truth. He was lying. But why would he lie about something like that? What gain did he earn in being dishonest? None that I can think of.

Finnick probably hates me, and I wouldn't blame him. He chose the wrong tribute. I remember the look on his face when I came out in my dress, just his look sent chills up my spine. When he spoke, my stomach lifted and fell unexpectedly. When he touched my cheek, my breath caught in my chest and refused to relax. The flaming heat of his skin was a shock. I have to get it out of my mind though. Honestly, I don't believe I'm going to survive, so what point is it in making myself miserable, pining over him, my last few days of life.

I replay for what seems like the hundreth time the happenings of last night. My overreaction, running out of the room in a hurried anger, my eyes stinging with every weak tear. Along with the feeling of betrayal, I felt like I disappointed Finnick. He had chosen me over Matt, and I let him down by being a naive, weakling. I ran onto the elevator, hating myself, hating Finnick. In a flash of time, I was already sprawled across my bed, hot tears falling onto the sheets.

Matthew had come in, seeing me rush in to the room, clearly upset. I lie in my bed, hugging my pillow. He sat at the foot of my bed, waiting for me to calm down a bit. He looked at me with a grave look, and wiped a lost tear that was falling down my cheek. It was a nice thought, but I felt no spark. Not like the spark when Finnick had touched my cheek. As I remembered, a new wave of tears flowed from me, shaking my body.

"Annie? What's wrong?" Matt asked quietly.

Somewhere behind I could hear Finnick shouting, "Annie! Annie!" He probably wants to remind me again how foolish and childish I am. How weak I am. Another bang of sorrow and guilt ran through me; any other words Finnick had to say were drowned out by my cries.

"I can't do this," I sobbed, "I can't kill anyone."

"I know, Annie," he cooed, "it's okay."

I looked at him and thought how lucky I was to have a friend like him. He always had my back, ever since I could remember. I hugged him, a silent thank you. He hesitated, but returned the embrace. His body was warm and strong, but it didn't feel right. It was nice, but wrong. All wrong.

"I'm sorry I missed your interview, Matt," I said, trying to catch a breath and not hyperventilate. I pulled out of the hug, deep down wishing someone else had followed me.

He smiled, as if it couldn't possible matter. "Don't be sorry, Annie. You obviously went through a lot. Just get some rest."

I lay down on my bed until he left the room, then I sat up in bed, staring out the window. This is how I stayed all night. Fearing the morning. And now it's here. Today is the first day of my prolonged death sentence. I am going into the Games.

We walk in silence, him probably because he is too angry at me to speak, me because I am too ashamed. I play with the piece of rope in my hands, tying and untying knots, trying to relax myself. The hovercraft is waiting.

I glance up at Finnick, lines etched in his angelic face. His sea green eyes stare directly in front of him. I continue to look up at him, hoping he will return my gaze. I am at the same time wishing he won't. I'm not ready for his look of disapproval.

But when he does look back at me, no sign of anger shows in his eyes. No hate adorns his face. Sorrow is the only thing his face wears. Sorrow and- I must be imagining- regret? The look wills me to speak, but I hardly trust my own voice. If I begin to talk, I may not be able to stop, or I might stop too soon and cry again. But, I have to clear the air.

"Finnick," I say so softly I fear he may not hear me, "I'm sorry."

"You shouldn't have to apologize," his answer startles me. "I was trying to warn you, but I blew up when you defended Matthew."

"He's my friend, so I can't say I believe you when you say he wants to kill me," I divulge, "but, I should trust you. So, I'll be careful."

He smiles so I say, "And Finnick," I know I have to get on the hovercraft that awaits in front of me now, "I was wrong to say your anything like the Capitol people. I still believe your a good man."

I turn to walk away, but before I do, my body acts without me. It leans toward him and kisses him. He kisses back softly, sweetly; I close my eyes. The sparks I felt at his touch don't compare to the inferno I feel at this. Everything tells me that this is right; this is where I belong. As much as I desire to stay like this all day, I pull away. I have to get on the hovercraft. I open my eyes, standing on my toes. He wears a smile, not his casual smirk either. A goofy, fun smile spreads from ear to ear, and I feel myself return it. Did I just kiss Finnick Odair?

I run to the hovercraft, looking back one last time. I can die happily now.


	10. Stranded

***Alright, sorry this chapter took so long. I've been a bit busy, but this one is super long. So, this chapter has both Annie's and Finnick's Points of View. I hope it doesn't get confusing; I would like to dedicate this chapter to my friend Gracie, for being supermegafoxyawesomehot and an amazing friend :) Thanks to the anonymous people who commented. So, enjoy :D***

* * *

Chapter 10

Stranded

**~Annie's Point of View~**

3... 2... 1... And the gong sounds. Get off the platform, I have to tell myself in order to function. Run, I must keep saying. I run away from the Cornucopia, not wanting to get myself involved in the bloodbath. If the Careers are after me, I don't want to give myself up so easily. They'll have to work for my death.

As I run, I hear the screams and laughs from behind me. I try not to make out the words some children are saying but it's difficult to block some things out. "Please, please. Don't kill me," I hear someone beg. "Help! Someone, please, I can't do this!" I swallow my tongue, trying to fight back the heart wrenching pain. No one will help them. I must continue to run, away from the sound. Luckily, my speed makes up for my lack of other skills. Maybe not makes up for, but doesn't throw me out.

The trees offer a perfect cover, but I can't take refuge up there. I am no tree climber. So, I will have to make cover on the ground. Where can I hide? No, don't hide! Stand and fight, Annie! Who am I kidding? I couldn't fight or kill or even defend myself. I just have to do the only thing I'm capable of, I suppose. Run.

I run through the forest. The arena is mostly trees, with a mountain somewhere to the west. I could see small animals in the greenery, none of which have attacked me yet, thankfully. You never know with the crazy muttations of the Capitol. A harmless butterfly could be your untimely demise.

I keep my pace until I hear the faint trickle of water. As soon as I stop, my side bursts and I'm gasping for air. I walk a sluggish pace until I find the small stream I had heard., running my dirty hands through the fresh water. I splash the refreshing spring on my face and neck, cleaning all the dirt and sweat that had made a home in my hair. A number of kids have already died; soon enough, I will join them. Stop thinking like that, Annie. But how can I not, when I know that the Careers are after my blood? When I know that I stand no chance.

Time passes at a sickeningly quick pace in a blur of colors. I continue walking, searching for something. I don't know what exactly, but I might find it. And maybe 'it' can help me win.

The Sun sets in the sky and I lie against a tree, hoping to be able to rest my eyes. Then, as the fake sky's moon kisses the arena, the cannons fire. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve. Twelve tributes dead. They're unscathed faces illuminate the darkness above. District 5 boy shows up first. That means that the Careers from 1, 2, and Matthew are alive, along with the District 3 kids. Next, the girl from 6, both tributes from 7, District 8 girl, both from 9, a boy from 10, both from 11 and 12. So many lives just gone, forgotten, in one day's time. My hands reach into my pocket, searching for the piece of rope. To calm myself down, I tie more knots, until my hands get tired, followed shortly by my eyes...

My head jerks to the sound of a cannon. The light of the moon shimmering through the tree cover. Who is it this time to die? Then another. fire Two down. A sound from above jerks my head up yet again. A parachute gracefully makes it's way to my feet.

I open it gently, a longing burning from my chest. I had only now realized how hungry I am. The pain in my stomach only just stands in comparison to the pain in my ankle. I hadn't even noticed I had sprained it, as so much adrenaline was coursing through me. Inside the parachute were two things; three pieces of bread and a new piece of rope. I smile to myself and look into the distance, praying a camera will see.

"Thanks, Finnick," I whisper.

I take a closer look at the contents of the parachute. The bread is warm and crumbles slightly in my hand. I lift it to my nose and inhale the precious aroma of food. Then I observe the rope. It's just like the one I have, just fewer knots. It only has one. Wait, why would Finnick tie a knot in the rope before giving it to me? What's the point in a solitary knot in a strand of rope? The knot points directly at me, am I missing something? No, it's not pointing at me. It's pointing behind me.

Then, the sound of branches snapping at my back. I turn around, frantic. Am I about to face my killer? A breath of relief washes over me. Matthew stands, his hands raised in surrender. Chagrin swarms me, having noticed I was holding my line of rope like a sword. Smooth, Annie.

"Woah," Matthew says with a light laugh, "calm down there, Annie. You could really hurt someone with that piece of rope, there." He laughs once more, and I allow my shoulders to drop.

"You scared me!" I yell to him. I look down at my hands and see that they're quivering. He really did frighten me. I shake my head and get some breaths.

"Well, I'm sorry," he smiles warmly. "Do you mind if I stay with you tonight? We can set up camp together, if you want."

How could I say no? He is stronger than me, and he is my friend. I trust him not to kill me in my sleep. But, Finnick had told me that Matt would be the one to kill me, that he is working the Careers. I want to trust Matt, but I want to believe Finnick. One of them is trustworthy, the other is lying. Why would Finnick lie to me? I don't know... to help Matt win? But how would pitting me against him increase his odds? Matt has a reason to lie, but he's never been dishonest with me before.

The truth is embroidered and patterned with so many untruths, it makes my head hurt. So, I suppose I'll have to meet somewhere in between.

"Sure," I say, smiling at him. I'll have to be friendly... but not trusting. Not condemning him as the ruthless killer he very well may be, but giving him a chance. I have to be careful about this though. I can't rely on Matt in the least. I'll put my faith in Finnick first.

* * *

Matt had built a nice shelter, and I had weaved some baskets that we now sipped water from. Under the tree, the moon illuminating our faces, it's almost peaceful. As we sit, he tells me about the Careers, and how he left them for the time being. He told them he was going to go look for a place to set up camp further into the forests. He really just wanted to make sure I was okay. So he tells me.

"Annie," he says softly, leaning closer to me. I give him a quizzical look, but he goes on, "did you mean what you said in the interview? About the price of murder?"

"Yes," I say, without hesitation. I wasn't sure of much, but my morals were clear. "Why? Having second thoughts about your path to destruction?"

"Haha, I'm not going to die, Annie," he says, obviously trying to lighten the mood. But I want answers. As long as I've known Matt, I've never picked inside his brain.

"Dying? You really think that's the worst the arena can do to you?" I question quietly, the wind fluttering the dry leaves around us. "What if you won? Knowing the horrific things you've done, the awful deeds you've committed. Having to live with the full understanding of how many lives you've taken, and how many others you've broken in doing so. That's the path of destruction I'm talking about."

He stares at me intently, and I return the gaze. I believe every word I said to him whole-heartily. If he thought less of me for it, for my weakness, so be it.

"You've always been a good person," he says, putting his arm around me. I allow it, but like it had the night he comforted me, the touch felt wrong. A long pause passes before he says, "Do you remember when we met?"

Come to think of it, I don't. Our parents had introduced us when we were so young. I was 6 and he was 7. That was a little more than 11 years ago. "No," I answer honestly, feeling the heat rush to my cheeks. How embarrassing. How good a friend am I that I can't even remember the first time we met?

"I know you do, your just playing dumb," he laughs at me. "Want me to enlighten you, Annie?" he mocks.

"Go ahead," I say back.

"Well," he begins as if about to tell a fantastic story, "my parents woke me up early that morning, telling me that we're spending the day with one of their friends." I look at him as he talks animatedly, gesturing his hands. I know the story is just as much for Panem as it is for me. "Of course, being only seven, I wasn't looking forward to it. It sounded extremely boring: hanging out with my parent's friends. But, I went along with them, and I realized we were walking to the beach.

"As we continued on, I saw a family there, sitting on a blanket. The mom was braiding the little girls hair, and the father was teaching his son how to weave a net. The whole day, my parents and the little girl's- which if you haven't noticed, is you- talked and did adult things. I didn't talk much to the girl either, she was too interested in the sea life in the ocean. Her brother and I talked some, but I really wanted to talk to her. I didn't though, not until I saw her the next month. We became pretty good friends actually."

I listened to the story in silence, noting my jaw drop when he said we met at the beach. 'I know you do, your just playing dumb' he said earlier. The dots were slowly connecting in my head, slowly turning into a message. Oh no, did Matthew think that... that when I was talking in my interview, about the special young man- did he think I meant him? Like a ton of bricks I suddenly notice the weight of his arm around me, crushing me. I know the pressure is in my head, he's not really crushing me, but I jerk away from him. Sitting further away now.

He looks at me, his face in possession of a very confused expression. I feel my hands moisten with my nervousness. My heart rate quickens. How can I explain to him that I wasn't talking about him in my interview? That I was talking about someone else. I was talking about Finnick.

Though I didn't remember my meeting with Matt, I could still envision the day I saw Finnick for the first time. I was playing in the sand on the beach, not caring about the reaping. It was my first, and I hardly cared. The sand castle I was building was far more interesting. I looked out into the water for a moment, seeing a young boy not far off, with a trident in his hand. I looked for several moments, then went back to my sand castle. As he walked onto the dry sand, I looked at him again. Even as young as I was, I could appreciate his beauty. I looked down running my fingers through the grains of sand. I looked up only when I knew he was gone. "He's different," I said to myself, like I usually did.

I then saw him when I was with my friends. They all giggled as he winked, but I just looked at him, still knowing that he was different. I couldn't explain it, -well, I still can't- but I knew.

The flashback passed in less than a second, Matthew still looking at me. I don't know what to say. How to break it to him. But, I open my mouth to try-

"Annie," he cuts me off with a smile, "you don't have to say anything. I get that I made things kinda weird," he laughs again, "just get some sleep. I'll take first watch."

I lie my head down on some soft grass, my eyes wide and confused. I would have to tell him, sometime. But, somehow, I couldn't. I couldn't get the words out, I just blanked. I'm not good under pressure, I guess.

My last thought before I go to sleep is what Finnick is thinking. Does he know that it's him I meant, not my district partner? Or did Matt's story trick him just like the rest of Panem. I say a silent prayer that he hasn't been fooled.

**Finnick's Point of View **

I button my shirt, feeling miserable, as I always do. I don't let it show, of course. I have a reputation to uphold. I smile once more at the Capitol woman before walking out the door. As soon as I leave the room, I run my fingers through my hair, disgusted with myself. I had to leave the mentor room to come fulfill my duty. I had to leave Annie.

I got the buzz on a small beeper right after I sent Annie the parachute. I squeezed the beeper tightly in my hand, too angry for words. They expect me to leave my job for some Capitol scum? I had to do it though, that was clear. That's always been cleared. I took a look at the screen to see Annie spinning around and eying Matthew. I was overjoyed she noticed the knot in the rope. I was enraged to see Matthew acting all buddy-buddy with her, when we both know that he is going to slit her throat sooner or later. It was night time now, so she might be sleeping. She also might be on watch.

I speed walk all the way to the mentoring room, leaving the Capitol woman's room long behind me. I enter and notice all the other mentors there, sitting at there stations. Each mentor has there own section where they watch and intervene by sending parachutes. Johanna was nowhere to be seen, her tributes dying in the initial bloodbath.

I look at the screens of my fellow victors. My stomach drops and my jaw follows in pursuit as my eyes take in the scene. Annie and Matthew, sitting comfortably under a tree, talking like old friends. They are old friends, but still. She should know better than this! I told her to be careful, and now she is allying with him. Not good; how do I get message to her to get out of there? Or to possibly kill him in his sleep?

I smile at the thought, then rush to my screen, turning it on. As it comes into focus, Matt puts his arm around her. She looks at his arm on her shoulder. I can see the hesitation in her eyes, though she usually never hesitates about anything. Good, I tell myself. Maybe she doesn't completely trust this guy.

"Do you remember the first time we met?" Matt asks arrogantly, moving some hair out of his eyes with his free hand.

"No," Annie responds a second later. Ha! She doesn't even remember meeting you; must suck, huh? I realize that I'm laughing a bit, that the other mentors are watching me. Oh well.

Then the slime-ball keeps talking, "I know you do, your just playing dumb," he laughs at her, smiling at his own humor. Did he just call her dumb? The nerve of him, insulting her like that. I know it wasn't really insulting, but it still got me mad. "Want me to enlighten you, Annie?" he looks at her, smirking an eager grin.

As he begins to tell the story, I get mad. This is all for the cameras, I know that. Does Annie? He's playing her. She's too smart to fall for it though. This act, the "good guy flirting" thing he is doing tears at me. He keeps telling his tale, probably spinning and twisting the truth to make it sound more interesting. "I realized we were walking to the beach." I hear him say.

No. No, he can't honestly think that she was talking about him in her interview. Of course not! That's ridiculous. I let the jealousy envelope me for a few moments, then press forward, desperately wanting to murder him. I struggle to listen to the rest of the story, willing myself to stay calm. She looks at him with a slightly bewildered expression, but she is obviously intent on the tale. I try to keep my face placid, not wanting the other mentors to look upon me strangely.

When he finishes his story, Annie looks off into the night. Oddly, she jerks pulls away from him. I let myself smile a little, but not enough to get my hopes up. She opens her mouth to speak, but by the look on her face, she may have not been able to say anything. Is she embarrassed? Is what he's saying true? It must be, because she listens to him when he tells her to fall asleep. She would've corrected him if she didn't feel what he insinuated.

My chest turns hollow and I slump in my seat. I tell myself to inhale and exhale. I sit down and stare at the screen, wanting to scream. I don't know what to do. I just want to hold her in my arms and tell her not to trust him. To trust me. I decide just to watch her sleep. Watch her peaceful breathing.

I know I won't be sleeping at all tonight.

**~Annie's Point of View~**

I awake to a cold hand covering my mouth. I panic, screaming. Only a muffled gargling sound escapes through the clasped hand that holds me. Another hand covers my eyes, and everything goes dark. I cannot see anything, all I can hear are the grunts of my attacker as I struggle against him. He pushes me forward and I am forced to walk in front of him. Even though both his hands are being used to cover my senses, he is still much stronger than me.

As I continue trying to break loose, thoughts flutter through my mind. I don't know how, but I manage to think straight. _Who is this? Where is he taking me? Matt was supposed to be on guard. Did he kill him? Why would he waste his time dragging me somewhere? Why not kill me along side Matt?_

I silently say goodbye to Matthew, knowing he is gone. Either that, or he ran away. I can't blame him for that. He should win. And even if he is alive, and he may not be, the goodbye is still valid. I know I will never see him again. I am walking towards my death.

Minutes pass and I continue to walk, to struggle, to scream. I try to bite the hand of the person holding me, but it's no use. He holds me in a way that I cannot escape or harm him. I am defenseless. He is in control.

I hear voices further ahead, arguing. I tune my ears and strain to listen over the roaring sound of my heart.

"He'll be here with her anytime now. I still don't get why we have to bring her here. Why not just have him kill her in her sleep? It's pointless," says a girl.

"It's all about the show, Dazzle," a boy responds happily. The both giggle until I know that I am in front of them.

My snatcher throws me to the soft ground and I fall on my hands and knees. I take in deep, calming breaths. Inhaling the sweet smell of the dirt. I refuse to look up at the Careers. I will not give them the satisfaction of seeing my face as I die. But, it seems I have not choice as a pair of hands grab my arms and hold them to my side, making me face them.

Dazzle, smiling like a lunatic, a bloodthirsty fire in her eyes. Glint, her district partner, the same expression, just more subsided. Both district 2 tributes, smirking at me with an evil grin. This is it.

"Good job, Matty," purrs Dazzle, looking at me.

No, she's looking behind me. I hadn't thought of who was holding me until now; I feel his hands gripping me tightly, no point trying to run. He didn't run to save himself, or try to save me. He brought me here. He betrayed me. My friend, my childhood friend, sacrificing me to the dogs. No, he isn't just sacrificing me to the dogs, he will devour me along with them.

I keep my face expressionless. Again, not wanting to give them any sign of weakness. I owe myself that much to die bravely. I owe it to my district to die like a tribute, not the cowering girl I am.

"I should have known you're a liar," I direct at Matt, who still stands behind me. I have yet to see his face, nor do I want to. It would be too painful. I thought I could trust him. Maybe not entirely, but I never thought he would really turn me over like this.

"Give it a break, princess," Glint says to me, swinging an ax at his side. "I suppose I should let you give your little speech. It will be your last." He smiles and I feel a lump in my throat. I can't talk, my trachea tightening with every inhalation. But, I know I have to. It will be my last.

"Matt," I say, without looking behind me, "I can't say I expected this." Stupid way to start, Annie. Oh well, keep going. Keep talking. "I knew you were capable of terrible things, otherwise you wouldn't have volunteered. But, this is evil. I hope my death satisfies whatever blood-lust you all share." Again, my throat squeezes shut, and a small cry escapes me. They smile at this, but I will my voice onward. I will say something horrible to them. Something insulting, "I hope the guilt doesn't destroy you. I hope, whichever one of you makes it out, is happy. Not that you deserve to be." I take a deep breath. There. I said what I believed. I do want them to be happy, even though they are wicked. I had wanted to insult them, to mock them with my final breath. But I couldn't; I want my last words to be meaningful. And I know what I want them to be.

"Bye, bye, princess," Glint hisses as he raises his ax.

My heart quickens and I feel a sudden urge to live overcome me. I can't die. This is all I think in the second he swings. _I don't want to die, I don't want to die. I cannot die. _So, I duck. I can't bend much, Matt's arms around me, but I lower my head to my chest. I expected the sound of metal whizzing through air. But I hear a sickening thud. A cannon in the distance. And the arms around me loose their grip and disappear completely.

Air fills into my lungs in broken fragments. I'm alive. I'm free, but that sound. That thud. I turn around and see Matt's severed head lying on the floor, looking back at me with a confused expression. I can't feel my body, all I know is that I am responsible. I am the reason he is dead, head apart from body.

I wretch and scream in pain. My eyes race around, seeing colors and shapes that make no sense. I double over, and look at my arms. Droplets of blood decorate my arms, jacket, and as I search my body, face. I throw up on the floor, cringing. I hear, but not completely, the sound of the Career voices. I can't process anything but guilt and pain. A lot of guilt, only numbed slightly by pain.

"Kill her, stop staring like an idiot and kill her, Glint," someone screams.

I close my eyes. I deserve death. But, what is death? I witnessed it... but what is it exactly? To not be alive? I must be dead already, because I will never live again. A ear-splitting cracking sound pierces my ears and my hands shoot up to cover them. I look up to see what's going on through my teary eyes. I must be crying a lot, because the whole arena looks underwater. I take a deep breath, trying to steady myself, but choke on the air. No, it's not air. It's water. Did I cry that much?

I swim up to the surface, coughing and hacking away the water in my lungs. All around me, filling the arena like a bath, water spews in, covering all the trees and land in seconds.I must have cried a lot, to fill the whole arena. I decide it's best to lie on my back as the world drifts around me. I don't want to cry anymore. Then, a cannon sounds. Who fired a cannon? Why? Oh, right, I'm in the arena. That means someone died. Who?

How did they die? Who killed them? Maybe they drowned... but if they drowned... I killed them. Because the water is my fault, my tears. I cry a bit more before mentally yelling at myself. I can't fill the arena anymore that it already is. Another cannon. I lay on my back, the water carrying me. Are all these deaths my fault? I sink deeper into my depression as the water refuses sink me literally. It shelters me still, cradling me like an infant. A cannon blast.

How long have I been lying here? Minutes? Hours? Days? I don't know... I don't know. More cannons sound and the sky turns to gray, then black. One more cannon sounds and I hear a deep voice spoken from all around.

"Your victor for the 71st Hunger Games, Annie Cresta, Distict 4!" the voice booms.

Annie, that's my name. Is it me they're talking about? Maybe, but I don't care. I'm too tired.

A light comes closer to my eyes. I feel my body being lifted, being raised into the skies. Am I dead? No, I still feel all the pain and guilt from my life. Heaven would be nothing like that. Unless this is Hell...

"Annie! Annie! Please, are you there!? Answer me!" I hear a gentle voice screaming. Though it's gentle, I hear the frantic pulse behind it. He's saying my name. I know who's voice that belongs to, I just can't put my finger on it. I see a beautiful face in front of mine next. One of an angel. I must be in heaven. As the face focuses, I see him. He looks at me, his eyes shocked and scared.

I smile at him and whisper, "Finnick."

"I'm here, Annie. I will always be here," he whispers into my hair.

I close my eyes, and clutch tightly to the rope I've had in my hand through it all.

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***Ok, that was really long. I hope you liked it :) I will be updating in a while, thanks for reading!***


	11. Cast Away

**I haven't updated in forever. Sorry :( I hope that this makes up for it! Thanks for reading**

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****Ok, so this is Finnick's take on Annie's final moments in the arena and a little afterwards. Enjoy :) And thank you to everyone who is reading this!**

Chapter 11

Cast Away

The sun in the fake sky of the arena has still yet to rise. The night is long from over; the Gamemakers shall keep it so until someone dies, or until something interesting occurs. My eyes have stayed glued upon Annie's sleeping figure, draped in innocence. She turns restlessly in her sleep, and my hollow heart continues beating.

As she slept, I had looked over her time in the games that I missed while I was... preoccupied. Matt's conversation with the Careers before he left still burned in my head. I rolled back the tape for the fifth time to watch.

"I thought you said I could kill her," Matt hissed at Glint, the tribute for District 1.

"I did, but now I've changed my mind," he replied with a hen-pecking tone.

Matt makes an angry face at him, opening his mouth to object when Dazzle interrupts, "What is it, Matty? Afraid of a skinny little girl?" she questions with a tone of arrogance. "Is that it? You're scared? Or is it something else," she says walking up to him, poking him in the chest with her finger, "Do you have feelings for her? You want to be the one to do it to make it quick and easy, so you say," she mocks, "but you probably just want to warn her and get her out alive. Is that right? You want to save her don't you?"

"Don't be an idiot," he snarls at her, "We're friends, so I want to make it painless. I owe her that much. I still want her dead though. She's got sponsors lined up, she's too dangerous to keep alive."

"Ha! Dangerous?" Dazzle cackles. "Little Miss. The-Consequences-Of-Death dangerous? Please, I can easily run her through. She's weak."

Glint leaning against a tree speaks, "The sponsors don't like her because she's strong. They like her because she's likeable. Pretty, smart, nice. Some things you ought to look into, Dazzle."

"Shut up, Glint," her voice filled with chagrin. "She's not even that pretty" she mumbles to herself.

"Listen, Matt," Glint walks up with an evil fire in his eyes, "this is a game. Let's make it interesting. So I'll make it quick, sure. But you are in charge of making it sport. Make her trust you, work her emotions. Play with her feelings. I don't care. Then, bring her here and I'll sever her head. Got it?"

"Got it," Matt replies without hesitation.

My face pinches with disgust. She likes him, the boy who will turn he rover to the Careers. He has tricked her into believing he's something he's not. Annie, pure Annie, with someone like Matt? She deserves better. She deserves someone as perfect as her. I know that no such person exists. I know I'm far from perfect, so is it wrong for me to believe that I may be right for her? Yes, it's selfish. She deserves so much more.

She had said something that got to me, something that made me truly believe that good people exist. _Dying? You really think that's the worst the arena can do to you? _No, it's not. I'm living proof to that. Losing my life to the games in the arena or losing my life to the games outside the arena, it makes no difference. If I could, I might even choose the former. But for someone to say that in the arena? It's risky, it's careless, it's a sure-fire way to lose sponsors, it's insane. It's also revolutionary, memorable, brave, moral, and it's also very Annie. She is the living picture of a perfect person. She's so good, she shouldn't be in the arena. She shouldn't have to suffer this, and what might come after it.

What if... What if they force her into what I am forced into? A doleful life of revulsion. Annie wouldn't be able to do it, she is too unblighted. I would never let them. I could never let them harm her. If she makes out of this, I will make sure she has no more pain. Not even the dissolute Capitol can sway me.

Her eyelids flutter through her dreams. A hand grabs my shoulder, pulling me back to the land of the living. I turn my chair slowly, still trying to hold onto the image of Annie.

Haymitch with his eyes glassy from drink looks at me with a pitied expression. I stare back, confused by his demeanor. I know Haymitch from curt nods in halls, late nights wasted at a bar. He had never been friendly, or cordial. He hadn't even shown emotion in our previous encounters. So why the look?

"Yes, Haymitch?" I ask, maybe a bit too sharply. I'm tired, sue me.

"You," he begins, his words coming out in a slurring mush of words, "you need to fight for it. Fight like I didn't."

"What are you talking about, Haymitch?" I counter, "You're drunk."

"Probably," he agrees. "I see how you look at that one. You care for her; do me a favor and do something about it and stop moping. It doesn't look good on you, pretty boy."

"I- I... uhm," I stutter. What did he just say? What do I say?

"I might be a drunk, but I'm not an idiot," he says, turning on his heels and walking out of the room very languidly.

I shaking my head slightly from side to side, hoping this will clear it. It doesn't, it may have made it even worse. Fight for it, for what? For Annie? For my freedom?

My eyes find the screen again, and Annie is still asleep, resting among the leaves. I smile to myself as I remember her leaning up to kiss me before she got on the hovercraft. She had been so quiet, I had thought she adhored me. But, she didn't. She doesn't.

Why would she kiss me if she liked Matt? I know Annie well-enough to say she wouldn't. She isn't the kind of girl who leads guys on or kisses randomly. She's honest and sweet and kind. So, I tell myself, she must like you. At least she doesn't like Matt. She may have been too flustered or embarrassed to say something. That does sound like Annie.

Her nose scrunches as she dreams, and I smile wide. She is going to live. I will make sure of it. Wait. What's happening now?

My hands clench and I let out an aggravated grunt at my monitor. Matthew is moving, he's supposed to be keeping watch. I stare, my eyes begging to jump out of their sockets as he moves closer to Annie. A low growl escapes me involuntarily; what is he planning to do?

As he moves closer to her, crouching down near her face, I feel myself unravel like a thread being pulled from a sweater. I slam my fist down onto the table, and the rest of the mentors stare at me, then back to their screens.

"Wake up, Annie!" I yell, "Come on!"

She still does nothing, sleeping so soundly. Her breaths still steady and slow. Matthew's face twists into a grin. He wipes one of the strands of her hair that hangs in front of her face and pushes it past her ear. He plants a sickening kiss on her forehead.

"Annie! Wake up! Now!" I yell, my cheeks bursting with searing heat. "Wake up!"

She only wakes up as his hand slides over her sleeping face. No! No! I cannot think. I cannot move. I cannot speak.

I vaguely feel a buzz against my leg. I feel my hand reach into my pocket automatically, accustomed to the buzzing. I look down at the beeper, my cheeks pulsing with anger.

"House # 45" it read in black print. I let out a loud scream and slam the beeper to the ground, watching the pieces shatter into hundreds of pieces. I am not leaving her, not now. Never.

Annie kicks and screams against Matt, him pushing her forward. I lean into the screen, pressing a combination of buttons to get her help. But what can I do? I can't send her anything she could use. Think Finnick, think. I can't send a weapon, for she wouldn't be able to get to it and Matt may use it against her. I can't do anything that will help her. Fight for her, Finnick. Don't give up.

A hand is placed on my shoulder and turns me around. A Capitol citizen dressed in ridiculous hues of purple and green looks at me with huge eyelashes tinted orange. He stares at me expectantly, and my neck turns back to the screen.

"Mr. Odair," the man says in a abnormally high voice, "I was sent because you did not respond the the pager message. Is something wrong?"

"Tell Snow, personally, that I decline. Now, and anytime after. Get a new victim." I give my best death glare and it must work, because the man scurries off like a mouse. There will be repercussions. I don't care.

As he leads her to where the Careers wait, I shake violently, filled with hatred. The Careers approach her, smiles on all their faces. "Good job, Matty," hisses one of the tributes with a wicked grin. She licks her lips in what I'm sure is supposed to be a seductive gesture.

I stare at the scream, my heart wrenching in agony. She's done, isn't she? She looks confused, not realizing the words aren't directed at her. She tightens and stiffens, surely realizing Matt is the one holding her. I swallow my tongue, my head feeling pierced with a stake.

"I should have known you're a liar," Annie whispers, her voice shaking. She doesn't look back at him.

My head continues to pound as I stare at the screen. Someone behind me grabs my shoulder and I shrug it off, intent on the image in front of me.

Glint laughs a little, stalking with an ax at his side and says, "Give it a break princess. I suppose I should let you give your little speech. It will be your last." He smiles and I slam my fist on the screen, all the mentors looking at me like I'm insane. No one reacts like this when their tribute is facing death. No one cares this much.

Annie takes a few deep breaths and I brace myself to take in every word she is about to say. It is true what Glint said. These few spoken sentiments will be the last.

"Matt," she begins, her soft voice strong and flowing. "I can't say I expected this. I knew you were capable of terrible things, otherwise you wouldn't have volunteered. But, this is evil. I hope my death satisfies whatever blood-lust you all share." My face pinches up and tears threaten to escape me. I cannot remember the last time I cried. I let out a shaking breath and my eyes do not blink. They take in every last image of the breathing Annie they can. Annie lets out a small whimper and the dog-like Careers smile. She looks at each and everyone of them, with the calculating look I noticed her for. With that look, I know that the next words she speaks will never be forgotten. The Capitol will remember, "I hope the guilt doesn't destroy you. I hope, whichever one of you makes it out, is happy. Not that you deserve to be."

Kindness is not expected in the games. Nor is it accepted. They will remember those words. And they might make her pay for it.

"Bye bye, princess," Glint cackles, and a look changes in Annie's eyes. An obvious determination changes her demeanor. As Glint's ax sails through the air, Annie's eye's widen, her neck bows low. The metal meets Matt's neck, sending it soaring to the floor with a thud.

Annie falls to the floor and I inhale deeply. The Careers start yelling back and forth.

"What the hell?" screams Dazzle.

"I don't know!"

"You can't even handle that ax! You're pathetic!"

"Shut up!"

The whole time Annie is lying on the ground, vomiting and crying. She stares at the dead body apart from its head. Her body shakes violently. She's too weak to carry on. I can't lose her, I thought I was going to lose her once. Not again.

"Kill her, stop staring like an idiot and kill her, Glint,!" yells one of the other tributes.

A piercing CRACK! resounds through the arena. Annie's hands lift up to cover her ears. All the mentors look around, panicking as well. On one of the cameras, a large dam is splitting, gusts of water spewing out. Another crack and the whole thing crashes down, water devouring everything it touches. I watch, my mouth hung open as the arena fills. It covers the trees and mountains. It engulfs everything with it's large, foaming tongue.

Annie! Where is she? She'll be alright... won't she? She can swim. She has to know how to swim; she is from District 4. She has the advantage here. She can make it. She will. She has to.

Monitors and screens roam the arena, looking for the lost and floundering tributes. The cameras find her first. Annie floats on the water, looking up into the sky. The cannons begin to go off. As the first cannon blasts, Annie gives a frantic look off into some direction. She becomes lachrymose and her tears become one with the flooded arena around her.

More cannons. I see the other mentors sit down in front of their monitors, exasperated and through. There is no point in pining on the thought that their tribute can swim. It is obvious that they can't. It's better to just sit and watch the show now. Not for me. Annie is still in this. We are going to pull out of this.

Time passes on slowly, or so it seems. In reality, as the last cannon sounds, it was probably only thirty minutes from when the dam broke. Time crawls when your dreading something. It takes me a moment to realize what the last cannon means. As I see Annie, still crying, still distant, it dawns on me. She's won.

I board the hovercraft that will retrieve her, smiling from ear to ear. She's alive. She's safe. When they pull her up, she's not moving. Most victors kick and scream and act crazy when they're carted up. But Annie is still in too much shock. I feel my stomach flip and the panic rise.

"Annie! Annie!" No response. Her eyes remain closed and refuse to open. "Please, are you there!? Answer me!" Why isn't she answering? Can she not hear me? What's happened to her? Have I lost her? No! I will not lose her; she's come this far. They won't let her die. I will not let her slip away. Her eyes open and my breathing slows down. It's alright.

She manages a smile, blush still somehow able to flow to her cheeks. "Finnick," she says softly.

I bow down low so that I'm level with her. I talk into her hair, beautiful even in it's wet tangled state, "I'm here, Annie. I will always be here."

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**So, I don't really ever get commetns, and that makes me sad. So, I really want to know what you think [prepares for cruelty]. **

**Please comment and stuffs. It makes my day. I hope the next chapter will come out a lot sooner.**

**Gotta go now, I'm jamming out to AVPM songs. ;)**


	12. To Shore Once More

Chapter 12

To Shore Once More

The train is silent. Marmy Hapshaw fiddles with her thumbs near the back. Her hair, a terrifying shade of yellow, is covered in ridiculous plumage. Her contact lenses match her eyes to the exact same color as her hair. The same color as her spiked shoes. Her lime green dress is hemmed at her pointy knees. She pulls out a compact mirror and applies more makeup to her... I'm not sure I'd call it a face. After applying a new coating, she smiles at me. I smile back and I can see the blush rise to her dimpled cheeks, even through the caked on makeup.

Vincent sits beside her, gulping down drink after drink. His ritual after losing his tributes. His clothes are wrinkled and his hair is messy. He goes through this every year. It's his way of coping. He notices me looking at him and gives a quizzical nod towards the window, asking a silent yet understood question. Annie stares blank-faced out the glass, the trees buzzing past. Vincent's look was him wondering whether or not she was okay. I couldn't tell him, so all I do is shrug my shoulders in defeat. Annie's deep green eyes blink, but that's all the movement she makes. Her hair is curled, trimming her face. Even though she looks so frail, her beauty is as strong as ever. Her head tilts slightly as we pass a small lake. She glances for the slightest second, to the water outside, then her hand shoots up to her ears. Her eyes shut, and she shuts everyone out.

I feel helpless. But what can I do? What should I do? Should I comfort her in embrace? Wrap her in my arms like I've longed to do since she came off the hovercraft? I wish I could, but I don't know whether or not that would help.

She doesn't talk, nor has she since she fell asleep on the hovercraft. She's been playing mute since. Her interview after the Games, in which she was supposed to talk about how she overcame the arena, was canceled. The Capitol doctors are calling her a hopeless cause.

"She's stuck there, so it seems. Stuck in the Games. Tragic, really," a doctor told me.

"What do you mean?" I asked, afraid my voice would break with the news.

"Well, we cannot be sure, of course, but we believe she is reliving her time in the Hunger Games over and over. There's not much we can do since she's refused all medication," his nasal voice carried along the white tiled hall.

"Can she heal? Will she ever be the same?" I asked desperately.

At this question, the man facing me got very serious. His brow tightened, his posture erect. His eyes met mine when he spoke, "Mr. Odair, I would've suspected you already knew, out of all people, that no one ever heals from their Games. Not entirely."

She doesn't respond when anyone calls her. She just continues to stare at a fixed point on the floor. Every so often, her hands will rise to her ears, probably reliving the shattering crack that ended her games. She hasn't seen her family yet, and one would expect she'd be ecstatic about seeing them. But no emotion touches her face. The calculating expression I cherished is gone. Possibly forever.

The Games can ruin you. I thought that I was the epitome of a ruined person, but seeing Annie. She may never recover. She is as broken as the rubble from the dam. More, if you ask me.

Without reason or cause, she looks at me, suddenly, her eyes wide and scared. My heart beat skips the pattern and I stare back, unsure of what I'm supposed to do.

"Annie?" I question hesitantly. Her eyes flicker slightly, for once I feel like she's actually seeing reality.

"I'm sorry," she replies. What? Sorry? How absurd. She's won, and she's the one who isn't talking or answering or... wait.

"Why should you be sorry, Annie?" I look at her, beseeching her for response.

She inhales sharply, her chest rises and falls at uneven paces. "Because I couldn't do it. Even if I wanted to, I couldn't do it. I thought maybe, once I was there. But no, I just couldn't even try."

"To do what?" my heart hurts as I see she's on the verge of tears.

"I can't kill anyone, Finn. I'm sorry I couldn't play the Games. I shouldn't be here. All those people, gone." As the words depart her lips, so do the tears from her eyes. I walk forward towards her, wrapping her in my arms. Her body shakes with every breath. And I shed a tear with her. She's truly broken.

"No, Annie." I begin, "don't be sorry. Don't you dare. You never had played the Capitol's games. Why should you have started then? You are alive because you had the nerve. The courage to say everything you believe and not be thwarted by them. Don't lose that."

She doesn't respond. She just lets me hold her in my arms, quivering every so often.

The cameras flash and swallow images of Annie arriving on the platform. She holds onto my hand tightly, and I give her hand a reassuring squeeze. The afternoon sky warms District 4, the blue hues of the town dancing with one another. The smell of salt water and fish enters my nose, and I inhale deeply. This is home.

My eyes glance over to Rock's Edge, the site of my brother's death, like they always do once I return from the Capitol. It's an involuntary action, and I regret it every time. As I look towards the sharp rocks, only slightly visible from the raised platform, my heart pangs. Sebastian has been gone for so long now, but I can still see his smile. I can still hear his voice, sometimes it mocks me, and other times it chides me for being ridiculous. It acts as my conscious most of the time. I exhale, letting the moment pass.

I scan the crowd, looking for a face. A pair of deep brown eyes set in a wrinkled face catch mine. Mags stands, hunchbacked and old in the crowd. Her smile shows maybe two dozen teeth. Maybe. She gives a wink, and a look that I know means we have to talk.

Vincent leans into my ear, whispering, "Go talk to Mags; I'll keep Annie safe 'til you get back."

With another squeeze of her hand, I let go of Annie and make my way toward Mags. Her smile fades as she sees me. With one bony, long hand, she gestures me to the side of the crowd. She stares me up and down, then her smile returns.

"I'm proud of you, dear," she says, her words come out jarbled and wobbly, and I'm sure I'm the only one who could of understood it.

"Why is that?" I retort.

"You've finally figured out who you are," she smiles sweetly.

"More like figured out who I want to become."

Mags smiles at me, her twelve teeth glittering in the afternoon sun. But just as swiftly as if came, it falls. Her admiring gaze turns into a saddened one, and her eyes must find something interesting on the floor, because that is all she sees.

"Mags," I ask, worried, "what's wrong?"

"Finnick, somethings happened-"but she gets cut off. Annie's voice rises above the clamorous crowd.

"Finn?" she searches the throng. Cameras take in her frightened face. I rush toward her, my legs not taking me fast enough. The steps to the stage creak as I run up them. Her slender hand reaches out and I clasp it in both of mine securely. I hold on to her hand, caressing it close to my heart. She looks up into my eyes, and my heart races frantically. What's wrong?

"My family, they're not in the crowd," she says in a hushed tone, probably all she can manage. "My brother, sister, parents, I don't see them. Shouldn't they be here?"

"Annie," I try to calm her, "don't worry. Not all families meet at the platform. Some reunite at their new home Victor's Village. My mom met me at our house when I came back. It's okay."

She nods, but she doesn't look convinced. My mind races back to the day I came home from my Games.

The sky was much like it is today, alive, crisp and blue. The clouds curled with one another, their hands streaking the sky slightly. I arrived at the platform, Mags at my side, a comforting hand on my shoulder. For the first time of many more to come, I cast my eyes toward Rock's Edge.

"Smile, Finnick," she whispers kindly in my ear, "you have an image now, dear."

I reacted to the cameras accordingly, winking, waving, bowing when necessary. My eyes grazed over the crowd, but to no avail. She wasn't there. My mother. Perhaps she couldn't bare the sight of me anymore. Was it possible that she had disowned me?

"Your mother is waiting for you back at your old home," Mags said as we walked through the crowd. I smiled at her quickly before bolting down the street. From behind, I could hear Mags' distinctive laugh.

I had never run so fast, I don't think I ran that fast in the Games even. I was ready to be home, to see my mom. I tried to act tough, but at the end of the day, I was a scared 14 year old boy.

The windows to our small shack were opened, letting the sea air pass through and liven up the dreary home. I walked up the cobblestone steps that led to my home. At the door, I hesitated, not knowing whether to walk in or knock. It might have been a month away from home, but it distanced me from normality. I was now stranger to District 4 life, it might take forever to regain

Just as I was making my decision on what to do, the door swung open widely. My mother stood in the threshold. Her blonde hair held fragments of gray now, possibly from the stress of me being in the games. Her thin frame looked at me with such shock, I thought I might cry. She might be disgusted with me, for what I've done. _I had to do it though_, I thought to myself. _No one survives the games by sitting idle._

In the split-second before I was sure I was going to run the other direction, my mother stepped forward and enveloped me in a warming hug. I wrapped my arms around her. We were eye level now, but I wished I could wrap my hands around her waist like I did as a child. She hugged me still, her eyes pouring forth tears.

"Finnick," she sobbed into my shirt, "I missed you so much."

"I missed you too, mom," I cried back.

She led me inside, holding on to my hands. We sat across each other at the table, her eyes imploring me to speak.

"Finny," she said before I got the chance, "life is going to get harder from here. You realize that, don't you? Well, don't you?"

"I guess," I replied.

"No, listen. I missed you so much, sweetie. I'm not loosing you again, so from here on out we are playing by President Snow's rules. I'm sorry, but I just can't risk you being severed from me again. You're still just a boy."

"I don't know, I think cold blooded murder merits some maturity points, right?" I retorted in a sad tone.

"You did what you had to do to survive. You did what was expected, nothing more."

"If I could do it over again-"

"It's okay. Let's not talk about it. I just got you back. Let's start packing; Victor's Village awaits."

I walk now, in the present, hand in hand with Annie. The camera-men left and the people of District 4 have enough courtesy to leave us be. Mags left with the crowd, her eyes still set on the ground. Annie's eyes take in every house and tree, every stone and person. She smiles every so often, as if remembering a dear memory. Maybe I should get her to talk...

"Annie," I try, "tell me about your family."

Annie looks at me with a wondering expression, a smile tugging at her lips. For a second, I thought I saw the spark in her eyes that ignited whenever she gave me that calculating look. But, maybe it was just a catch of light. "Well," she begins, her voice melodic and vibrant, "my older brother, Nico, looks just like my father, the spitting image. They have the same blue eyes and black hair. Nico tries to act like him too, tries to be an adult. It doesn't bode well for him most of the time," she giggles. For the first time since the games, she openly talks. No heated pressure in her voice threatens to keel her over. She seems entirely whole once more. I smile as she continues to talk of her family.

"My dad is a net weaver, but that's where Nico doesn't want to be like him. He wants to be some big shot fisherman, start his own company. I don't know, he might be able to do it, but he's lazy. And Sophie, she's seven. She looks like my mom, blonde hair, brown eyes. They're both beautiful. She's sensitive, and cries a lot. Over just about everything. It used to make me laugh so hard when I was younger. Now, I just protect her from things that would make her cry. I miss them all so much."

"Well, we're almost to your old house," I say delighted. She just may pull through this.

She smiles at me, her warm cheer engulfing me. The pebbled steps to the old shacks remind me of my childhood, when I lived in the small boxes by the water. I look at Annie, and her face scares me. Her eyes are huge in horror. She let's go of my hand. She breaks out into a run, my feet scramble after her. I try to keep up, screaming her name over and over.

"Annie! Stop! Annie!" I yell.

When I catch up to her, she's on her knees in a pile of ash, shaking her head back and forth desperately. "No, no. God, please no. Why? Why me? Please, no. No!" she screams.

"Annie? What is it?" I ask. Then it clicks. The mound of ash is Annie's home.


	13. Abandoned

**Are you ready? Are you? ok! Read :D**

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Chapter 13

Abandoned

"No!" she yells, her voice sending chills down my spine. "Please, no. Why? No," she pleads. Her back is lowered in defeat. Her hair disheveled from her hands constantly pulling at it. She looks up into the sky, her cheeks red and eyes blood shot. "Bring them back! Please, don't take them!" she screams, "Not now! Why! Please!"

Again, I feel utterly helpless. Her tears wet the dark ash beneath her. I crouch down beside her, her eyes scan the wreckage. "Finnick, bring them back," her eyes beg me. I look at her, my eyes begging back.

"Annie, I'm so sorry," is all I can manage.

"Bring them back!" she yells at me, her eyes overflowing. My body shutters, my heart sinks. I try to hold her hands, but she pulls away, slamming her fist on the ground, shaking.

"I can't do that," I whisper. Her hands, now covered in the black soot, fly to her ears. She looks at the ash one more time, before closing her eyes tightly and screaming.

I regret backing away instantly, but her outburst shocked me. I move closer to her then, and I can hear her heart racing from this distance. "Annie," I try to get her attention. "Come back, please," I say. "I'm here for you."

Surprisingly, she stops screaming. Her eyes open and the whites are grotesquely red, her sockets puffy and swollen. The eyeliner that she wore smears her cheeks. She throws herself at me then, holding on to me tightly. I inhale deeply, forcing myself to be strong for her.

"Don't go," she weeps.

"Never."

The sun was setting over the lapping ocean. The sky kissing the horizon, its rays bending in the dusk. Its oranges and pinks held hands, intertwining their fingers. I do the same with Annie now, holding her hand in mine. Her fingers shiver and I try to keep them warm. A sole tear curves down her cheek, wetting the sand.

She hasn't moved from the ash pile for hours. She hasn't spoken. The air chills my nose, but I could care less. Annie's frame is hunched over and swallowed in tragedy. Her eyes look hungry, and desperate. I am hungry and desperate, not having eaten since the train. That was about six hours ago. I don't care, really. I just want to be here for Annie.

"Annie, we should go inside," I whisper to her. She doesn't respond. "Annie, it's getting cold. Let's go. Mags will make you some hot chocolate."

I know what she's feeling, but only in a fraction. I remember when I lost Sebastian. I wouldn't speak. All I did was scream; that was all I could do. I blamed everyone, my mom, myself, the neighbors. It took me months to realize no one was at fault. It was just a freak accident.

For some reason, this doesn't seem like one. How is it possible that a house by the water could go up in flames? That no one could help? It doesn't seem realistic. At the back of my mind, I know the reason for this. I don't want to admit it to myself. There is someone to blame for this. Me.

Images flash. A beeper buzzing. Slamming it to the ground. Telling Snow to find a new victim. I knew there would be consequences, but at the time, I didn't care. Now, I'm paying for it. No, now Annie is. This is my fault. I know it. I admit it to myself. How do I admit it to her?

I can't. Not now anyway.

"Come on," I say, lifting her up. After a few steps, she stumbles. Her face remains expressionless. I pick her up in my arms, carrying her like a groom carries a bride. Her arms wrap their way around my neck, pulling me in close. She silently sheds a few more tears. I let her, too heart-broken.

I drop her off at Mags' house, she is too sorrowful to be alone in her house in Victor's Village. Mags offers me a smile, and Annie a cup of hot chocolate. She takes it, but doesn't drink it. She holds the steaming cup in her hands, staring into the liquid.

Before leaving, I kiss the top of Annie's head.

I smell it before I open the door to my home. Roses and blood. Snow is here. In my home.

I tell myself to keep my back straight and my head high. This should be interesting. I open the door and the wafting aroma makes me gag. He sits with my mom, eating cookies and sipping tea. He looks over his shoulder toward the door, smiling broadly. His face is tight and pulled back and sickening. My mom looks utterly relieved I'm back.

"Good evening, Mr. Odair," Snow says in a loud voice which fills the whole room and sends chills down my spine.

"How are you doing, Cornelius?" I'm pushing my luck, I can tell by the expression my mother gives me. It's reprimanding, and honestly, almost as scary as the president.

Snow speaks, clearing his throat, "I wish I could say I was better, son." Him calling me son makes me mad, enraged. But, I keep the spite down. I hide the venom in my voice with a short smile, sort of how Snow does with his roses.

"Well, why don't we have a chat, then."

"Indeed."

My mom takes the cue to leave the room. She nods at me, warning me to keep my temper. I know, I know. Any other slip ups and it could be Annie next.

"So, Finnick, have you any idea why I'm paying you this visit?" he asks, hissing with his breaths.

"You killed her family," I simply retort.

"I had to. It seemed you lost focus. Did you forget the details of our prior arrangement? You were to pay off your debts."

"So you killed her family to keep me in line? To remind me?"

"I suppose you could say that, Mr. Odair. If I had just killed the girl, then you would be free to act as recklessly as you please. But, she is hostage now that you have taken so much interest in her well-being. Now, care telling me why this girl is so distracting for you?"

I remain silent. I don't wish to tell my personal life to an evil sadistic maniac.

"So I feared. You love her," he says, spitting out the word like it burns. "But will she love you back, when she discovers that you're the cause for her family's murder?"

"I am not the cause. You are."

"Yes, Mr. Odair. You and I both know that is not what you believe."

My face crunches and I taste metal. My stomach does turns and flips. I am seconds away to punching the president in the face. I clench my fist, trying to fight the urge to break him. To crush him. To hurt him like he's hurt me, like he's hurt Annie. My Annie. No, I couldn't stop at just hurting him. I'm going to kill him.

But he stands up before I can. He turns wishing his final farewells, bowing slightly.

"Goodbye, Mr. Odair. Let us not make this a habit. Next time, it will be far more severe than just the family. Let us hope Miss Cresta is the forgiving type."

The door shuts tightly, but I still smell the remnants of roses. And blood. I look down and realize that I'm bleeding. I had squeezed a tea cup in my hand, shattering it. Shards are stuck in my hand. I don't care. I let out a scream.

"Yes," I say to myself, "let's hope."

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**A special thanks to Peeta-loves-Katniss for commenting :) It means a lot!**

**Next chapter will be coming shortly, I'm on school break!**


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